


Spyro: Dragon Realm Chronicles

by ClockDreamsForever0912



Category: Spyro, Spyro the Dragon (Video Games)
Genre: Brotherly Love, Childhood Friends, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Falling In Love, Familial Love, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mid-Canon, Minor Violence, Multiple Pairings, One Shot Collection, Other, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Sisterly Love, Spyro-Freeform, Universe Alteration, Way Too Many Characters to Tag, more tags to be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 16:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 39,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20342893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockDreamsForever0912/pseuds/ClockDreamsForever0912
Summary: Spyro and his friends and loved ones have had many adventures that didn't involve Gnasty Gnorc, Ripto, or the Sorceress.  Their everyday lives and relationships with each other prove just as exciting before, during, and after fighting evil.  A collection of Spyro drabbles from my old Tumblr account, now here!





	1. Commitment (Nestor and Spyro)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I've officially left Tumblr for good, as stated in my update on The Clockwork King. It ultimately got to be too harsh of a place to be in and it was put upon my heart to leave it. But the good news it I saved a majority of my drabbles, so I'm bringing them here for everyone to enjoy! Plus I'll have some new content to go along with the classics! Special thanks to DecalinetheSpaceCat and Dracostar for motivating me to bring these here!

Drabble 1: Commitment

Nestor never really saw himself as the fatherly type of dragon. Many of the older dragons were surprised that he didn’t have hatchlings of his own by now. Being a father wasn’t a commitment he saw himself adhering to.

He found himself rethinking that belief when he saw that purple hatchling burst out of his egg.

The Artisans didn’t receive hardly any eggs this Year of the Dragon; most actually went to the Magic Crafters or Dream Weavers. Nestor was taken aback when Cosmos handed him this particular egg and informed him that he sensed something ‘different’ about the dragon inside. He passed it off as Cosmos feeling sorry for the Artisans and giving them a spare egg out of pity. Nestor didn’t know at the time whether to feel thankful or offended.

When it came time for all the eggs to hatch, Nestor was in for a surprise. The first was the small dragonfly larva that hatched next to the dragon egg and stuck to it like glue. Normally, dragonflies didn’t come around the hatchlings until they perfected walking and talking. Secondly, a brazen thief clad in blue waltzed in and stole the dragon egg the moment he had his back turned. He and Lindar gave chase to the thief but were surprised by his speed. They feared this egg would be lost forever if they couldn’t catch him.

Then it happened. The pink, speckled egg suddenly glowed red-hot in the thief’s hands before bursting open in a small ball of fire. The thief dropped the fireball and ran off to jump into the ocean surrounding Stone Hill. That was when Nestor and Lindar got a good look at what came out of the egg.

In the green grass lay a small, purple hatchling with a yellow-orange crest on his head. He looked up at them with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he stuck his clawed hand in his mouth and chewed on it. The dragonfly larva was unharmed by the burst of flame, simply crawling across the baby dragon’s snout. Nestor and Lindar could only share a glance before looking back at the peculiar hatchling. Cosmos wasn’t kidding when he said this one would be different.

The Artisans decided to name the hatchling Spyro due to the incident. The dragonfly larva, due to having a glow to him already, was called Sparx. They all decided to raise him in the tranquility of Stone Hill, but Nestor stuck close by to make sure he didn’t fall under the wrath of the temperamental rams or crazy shepherds. Nestor could’ve put all responsibility on Lindar, as he was the leader of Stone Hill, but Nestor felt something inside him well up that told him to watch after the purple hatchling.

It was one night during a get-together at Stone Hill’s castle when Nestor heard shrill cries. He excused himself from his cup of ale and went to find the source of the sound. In one of the castle’s quieter rooms, he found little Spyro crying as the result of a nightmare. Sparx looked up at the green dragon with pleading beady eyes, begging him to help his friend.

Argus and Gildas were better with children; he knew that a long time ago. He would’ve taken the easy way out and called for one of them. But Nestor wasted no time in scooping the hatchling into his strong arms and rocking him, whispering comforting words. Spyro’s cries slowly died down as he looked up at Nestor with big, bleary purple eyes. The cries were soon replaced by gurgles and chirps as little Spyro reached his small paws towards the bigger dragon. Nestor found himself smiling warmly and allowing the hatchling to bat at his extended claws.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, little one. I promise.”

Against previous beliefs, Nestor made a commitment to help this little dragon grow and live peacefully. He didn’t know that in the coming years this little dragon would end up saving _him_.


	2. Drabble 2: Balloons (Little Spyro and Nestor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Spyro is enamored by the enigmatic Balloonists during the Artisan Cultural Festival. But as with all little dragons, curiosity gets the better of him. Nestor has to intervene before one of two things happens: Spyro becomes a purple puddle of goo, or he has a heart attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to have another one up for the night, and this is one of my favorites. Actually, any of the stuff involving Spyro and Nestor's father-son bond falls into favorite stuff I've written. Now here, the Artisans hold a cultural festival once a year where all five realms come together to display their wares, play games, and eat food. Spyro, of course, sees the Balloonists handing balloons to festival-goers and gets an idea. Cue a panicked Nestor as a result.

Drabble 2: Balloons

Little Spyro never saw such an array of colors that weren’t Gildas’ paint pallet.

The small purple dragon stared up at a large cluster of balloons. They were being offered by one of the known balloonists during the annual Artisan Culture Festival. Before laying eyes on the balloons, he stuck by Nestor’s side as he begged to sample different food and win a stuffed animal crafted by the Dream Weavers. He even wanted to play ‘Catch the Boar’ at the Beast Makers’ stall, but Nestor told him he was too little.

At one point, Nestor was called over to greet the visiting Titan and Cosmos. He looked to the small purple dragon and stated, “Stay put. I’ll be back shortly.”

Once the green dragon walked off, Spyro took notice of the balloons again. He saw the balloonist handing random dragons a balloon, even if they looked too old for them. He heard so much about the adventures of the balloonists; they traveled everywhere in the Dragon Realms! That was what he wanted to do, but his wings weren’t strong enough to even carry him across the fields of Stone Hill.

He looked again at the large cluster of balloons near the balloonist and got an idea.

It was only a few minutes later that Nestor was still in conversation with Titan and Cosmos. He and Titan looked ready to fall asleep over Cosmos’ prattling over the recent feats in the Magic Crafters world. Sometimes they didn’t know if Cosmos was that proud of his home realm or just liked to hear himself talk. Nestor glanced around and realized he needed to get back to Spyro. But before he could excuse himself from the other leaders...

“Oh my gosh, LOOK UP THERE!”

Nestor immediately looked up, a cup of juice to his lips, and spat his drink out at what he saw. The cluster of balloons the balloonist had started going up towards the sky…with Spyro hanging on to the strings. The little dragon was laughing, unaware that he was in danger. If he got too high and let go of the strings…

The other dragons were too stunned to do anything as Spyro ascended higher, and Nestor felt his paternal instincts kick in. He rocketed off the ground and flew as fast as he could, right as Spyro’s grip on the strings started slipping. It was right when his little claws barely held on that Nestor reached him and grabbed both him and the cluster of balloons. He came down to the ground among the cheering dragons and handed the balloons to the visiting balloonist.

Now to deal with Spyro.

As much as Spyro gave him the puppy-eyes, Nestor took him inside the Artisan castle and gave him a swift swat with a paddle. This sent Spyro sobbing and blubbering, as any child that just got spanked would. Spyro did his best to try and justify what he did.

“B-But I j-just wanted to f-fly!” Spyro sputtered.

“You took those balloons without permission, and went so dangerously high that you would’ve died from the fall! Do you understand how scared I was!? If anything happened to you-”

Yelling at the already-frightened Spyro wasn’t helping matters, and Nestor immediately cooled down with a sigh. Spyro was very impulsive and got into mischief, but he was also very young-too young to understand. He didn’t understand how scared Nestor was at the thought of losing him. He didn’t understand that Nestor blamed himself for leaving Spyro alone for just a minute.

The Artisan leader scooped the purple dragon up and nestled him against his shoulder. As he heard the young dragon sniffle and whimper into his vest, he whispered, “…I’m sorry, Spyro. I shouldn’t have left you alone or yelled at you. You gave me quite a scare, so I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Spyro sniffled and replied, “I-I’m sorry…f-for takin’ the balloons.”

“All’s forgiven, Spyro. I’m just relieved you’re unharmed.” Nestor assured.

He pulled Spyro away slightly to look him in the eyes, and he asked, “I’m curious…why did you want to take all the balloons?”

Though still teary-eyed, the purple dragon smiled and beamed, “I wanna fly all over and explore, like the balloon guys do!”

It all made sense now. Spyro was always eager to explore every corner of the Artisan realm, but now he decided he wanted to explore all the Dragon Realms like the balloonists. It wasn’t an unusual goal, but it wasn’t something the Artisan dragons did often. But little Spyro was full of surprises and energy, so perhaps that goal wasn’t implausible.

“Well, once you work on your wings, you can start travelling all over the Artisan realm. Who knows? You may even get to travel all over the Dragon Realms when you get a little older.”

Nestor didn’t realize that those words would pop back into his head when Gnasty Gnorc decided to target the dragons…


	3. Please Don't Cry (Lindar and Spyro)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spyro's been the victim of a bad day and wants to just curl up and cry it out. The leader of Stone Hill, however, isn't one to let Spyro have a bad day. He's going to do what he can to bring a smile to his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another one of my favorites. Now apart from Nestor, I've always thought that Spyro would also have some father-son bond with Lindar (since it's speculated Spyro was born in Stone Hill). I've also pictured Lindar trying to be as worthy of being a father in Spyro's eyes as Nestor is. Nonetheless, Lindar's always there to help Spyro on his bad days! So enjoy this classic!

Drabble 2: Please Don't Cry

Today had been a very rough day for young Spyro. It made him consider that he was a purple bag of bad luck.

First he broke one of Nils’ prized sculptures. That turned into a domino effect and led to more disasters. Getting splattered by Nevin’s paint, getting covered in gravy and getting yelled at by Alvar. Knocking Astor over by accident and getting paddled by Nestor. Then he stubbed his toe on Thor’s ridiculously-large vase.

Spyro curled up into a ball and sat in the middle of Stone Hill’s field that evening. He didn’t want to talk to anyone; he just wanted to be alone.

But a clock-clad dragon wouldn’t allow him that.

Lindar found Spyro in a little purple ball among the sheep. This was odd…normally, he’d be bounding around and chasing said sheep until he collapsed. Either the little guy was sick or he was very down in the dumps. Lindar couldn’t have Spyro being a little sad-sack. That little dragon needed a smile on his face. What was the best way to put a smile on his face? First, find out what was wrong.

“Hey, what’s the matter, little buddy?” Lindar asked innocently.

Spyro narrowed his eyes at the maya-blue dragon and grumbled, “Leave me alone, Lindar…”

The clock-clad dragon just tsked and shook his head. He put his hands on his hips and sarcastically reprimanded, “That’s no way to talk to grown-ups, Spyro. Now why’re you being a little purple lump in the field?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Spyro huffed.

“Spyro-”

The purple dragon finally snapped and shouted, “I had a bad day, okay!? Just leave me alone!”

Spyro found himself shocked that he just yelled at Lindar. Apart from Nestor, Lindar was another dragon he considered the closest to being a father. In spite of his sarcastic and passive-aggressive personality, he always listened to him when he was down…and he just yelled at him like a little brat. Spyro felt like a ball of lead was in his stomach and his eyes began to burn.

Lindar readied himself to scold the young dragon and ask if he wanted another paddling from Nestor. He stopped when he saw Spyro’s lips quivering and his eyes reddening. The poor kid must’ve really had a bad day and felt even worse now.

With a sigh, Lindar quietly pleaded, “Please don’t cry.”

That wasn’t the right thing to say. If anything, Spyro needed to cry and get it all out. Lindar wasn’t Nestor and felt angry he wasn’t, but he wouldn’t stand by and let Spyro cry curled up in a ball. No…he picked Spyro up into his arms and held the sniffling dragon against his shoulder. He was on the verge of crying just for seeing Spyro cry.

“Spyro,” Lindar began, “we’ve all got bad days. Don’t let it get you down. If you do that, how can you look forward to the good days ahead?”  
Spyro wiped his nose and asked pitifully, “B-But…what if tomorrow’s worse?”

“Don’t think that. Look, tomorrow’s going to be awesome. Just put what happened today behind you, like the hours in the day,” Lindar explained with a smile. “And if something happens you embarrass yourself tomorrow, you can always hide in the back room of my shop.”

That statement brought a small laugh out of Spyro. “Isn’t that where you conduct ‘mad’ experiments?”

“No, that’s where I work on my awesome top-secret clocks,” Lindar jested. “Everyone else calls them mad experiments because they’re jealous.”

Spyro laughed again and wiped his eyes. He was already feeling better and he had Lindar to thank for it. He was always glad he wasn’t so super-strict like Nestor, even when everyone else insisted Nestor was strict ‘out of love’. He leaned over and rested his head on the maya-blue dragon’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Lindar.”

Lindar felt his heart warm up and he hugged the young dragon. Sure, the little guy was spoiled from being the only young dragon in the Artisan realm, but he was a great kid to have around. And he always wanted Spyro to know just how much they-he-cared about him.

“Heh…anytime, Spyro.”


	4. Buffet (Lindar and Argus)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lindar just wants to enjoy his time at Dragon Shores. However, something that appears once a year is threatening his vacation. And his desires to stay trim for the beach. Argus snacking in front of him doesn't help matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now this was one I wrote several months ago. In the drabbles I wrote, I believe Dragon Shores has a special buffet that appears once a year that has delicacies from the Dragon Realms and Avalar. It's great for vacationers and couples on a date. It's not so great for certain dragons trying to watch what they eat. That's the case with Lindar, who's a little insecure about his looks.

Drabble 4: Buffet (Lindar and Argus)

The good thing about going to Dragon Shores was that you could throw your cares away and enjoy some leisure time.

The bad thing about going to Dragon Shores was that you often left packing on a few unwanted pounds.

Lindar knew this all-too-well. Every summer, many of the Artisan dragons would migrate to Dragon Shores and enjoy fun in the sun, a few carnival games, or even catch a movie. Summer was also the time when _it _came around. The show-Gnorcs working the park would set up a special area near the beach and creatures from many worlds would flock to it, from the Dragon Realms all the way to the Forgotten Realms.

The blue dragon glared in the direction of an alluring buffet table.

Every summer that thing came around, and every summer Lindar would go home not being able to fit into his tool belt. It didn’t help matters that Argus, the famed food critic of the Artisans, would waltz up and sample the food right in front of him. Following after him was Tomas, who made sure to eat a sample of Avalar’s Sunny Beach shrimp right in front of him. Tomas was just asking for that precious lute of his to be stuffed with burnt sheep wool. Even Nils, the beanpole of all Artisans, loaded a platter full of delicacies. 

And Lindar only stared at it with faltering willpower and a thin line of drool from his lips.

“Are you seriously going to stand there staring at it all day?”

Lindar snapped out of his trance and found Argus suddenly standing next to him. The large purple dragon held a plate filled with delicacies from the Dragon Realms and Avalar, casually munching on the contents with a nonchalant expression. Just the smell of the food was so tempting, but Lindar had to stay strong. He had to keep his physique and not endure another exercise session with the Peace Keepers. 

“I don’t need any of it,” Lindar retorted with feigned confidence, “I’m all about keeping my physique this time. Besides, a dragon with willpower and a toned physique gets admiration from the _lovely _beach-goers.”

“_Toned _physique…keep telling yourself that, Lindar.” Argus deadpanned, poking his tail at the blue dragon’s hips to emphasize his point. “So, in order to feed a delusion of grandeur, you’re going to starve yourself instead of enjoying something that comes once a year?”

Lindar’s confidence withered enough for him to confess, “…It goes to my hips.”

It made sense to Argus now, and he couldn’t help but flash a sly smile. “Ah, so Gavin’s comment from last year still bothers you. That’s not an excuse to not enjoy a meal. Think of it as a ‘cheat day’.”

“Cheat day doesn’t sound so enthralling.” Lindar grumbled.

Argus only shot him a look and stated, “Just get a plate and get something to eat, you crazy-haired diva. And you’d better hurry before the barbecued peacock is gone.”

Peacock…as in Shady Oasis barbecued peacock? LIndar found himself licking his lips as Argus left to enjoy his own food. No, he had to resist. But the smell of it was too irresistible. All of his willpower started crumbling away like one of Thor’s prehistoric vases. He found himself inching closer towards the buffet as though he were under a spell.

Just one bite would suffice…that was all he needed.

* * *

Spyro walked into Lindar’s workshop one afternoon in order to lend a hand in varnishing a few clocks, under Nestor’s request, of course. He and Sparx at first couldn’t locate the blue dragon, so they went further in. It was then they heard frustrated grunts that sounded like the horologist himself. The purple dragon wandered towards the back of the shop and finally found Lindar…struggling with something.

“Hey, Lindar, what’s wrong?” Spyro asked curiously.

Lindar abruptly turned around and stared wide-eyed at the young dragon. He hoped nobody would find him in this state and end up laughing at him; he already received a few jabs from Gavin. Sadly, the inevitable couldn’t be avoided with Spyro. He surrendered and turned around, holding his belt…and trying his best to buckle it together.

“…I can’t fit into my belt.” Lindar admitted in a low voice.

Spyro suddenly noticed that the blue dragon indeed looked…pudgier than usual. He suddenly put two-and-two together and slyly asked, “Eat too much at the Dragon Shores Summer Buffet?”

Lindar merely glared at the small dragon and dragonfly snickering at him. “Don’t rub it in, Spyro.”


	5. Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spyro gets wind that Argus has a stash of what he calls divine chocolate. He stops at nothing to get it, even sneaking into Argus' house when he's away. Unfortunately, Spyro learns why he shouldn't partake in too much of a good thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another favorite one I did long ago! Spyro got into a lot of mischief at a very young age, and this is before he understands that breaking and entering is bad. But when he wants something, in this case supposedly-divine chocolate, he go to many lengths to get it. But like all kids, he doesn't realize too much of a good thing is bad. I laughed when I first wrote this one!

Drabble 5: Chocolate

Spyro was good at finding things he shouldn’t. He was very good at wanting to find things he shouldn’t.

He had to be very sneaky when it came to finding this forbidden treasure. He kept watch and waited until the house in the Artisan home was empty. All his life, he unintentionally observed each of the older Artisan dragons’ daily routines and whether or not they kept their doors locked. Today had him sneaking cleverly into Argus’ abode looking for the desired find.

Word went around that Argus had a stash of chocolate that was so divine in taste you were addicted in one bite. Word also went around that he refused to say where he kept this stash. Other dragons brushed it off with a shrug, but Spyro knew then he had to find it. He had to find this so-called divine chocolate, even if it meant getting in trouble later. It would all be worth it. He just needed one little piece of it, after all.

He waited, Sparx perched quietly on his head, until Argus left to play sheepball with the other dragons. Spyro put his sense of smell to use once he got inside and began sniffing for the telltale smell of chocolate. Sparx, being the ever-loyal friend, followed behind, but wore a disapproving scowl at the purple dragon breaking and entering Argus’ home. Argus finding out was one thing. Nestor finding out made the dragonfly shudder.

“Gimme a light, Sparx! Let’s look in the kitchen!”

Sparx rolled his eyes and glowed brighter, illuminating the kitchen enough for Spyro to see. It was obvious just how much of a food aficionado Argus was; he wasn’t the renowned and feared food critic for nothing. Spyro knew that when you wanted to find something you weren’t supposed to, it’d be in the last place you expected. He sniffed the air again and started smelling a cocoa scent coming from the bread box.

Of all the places Argus would hide it.

“Argus, you need to pick a better hiding spot than that.” Spyro snorted.

He gingerly opened the box and found, housed in delicate cloth, pieces of rich-looking chocolate that smelled wonderful up-close. Sparx buzzed and told Spyro to only eat one piece and leave, though he doubted the young dragon would listen. Spyro immediately grabbed a piece and threw it into his mouth, hoping it would be as divine as the rumors said. Sparx gulped and knew there was trouble when Spyro suddenly got that look in his eyes.

Spyro was hooked. He lost all self-control in less than a second.

* * *

Tomas didn’t expect to see the small dragon being so sluggish. 

The bard busied himself playing a few random melodies on his lute as he waited for Gavin and Argus to return from playing sheepball. It was as he sang about roasting scarecrows that he saw Spyro. Something was off about him, however. Instead of a spunky pep in his step, Spyro dragged himself along and lowly groaned. Squinting his eyes, Tomas noticed unusual stains around the young dragon’s mouth. Sparx trailed behind him and wouldn’t stop glaring.

Tomas, against his better judgment, walked up to Spyro and gave him a worried look. Come to think of it, the little dragon looked very green in his usually-purple face. He also realized the stains around Spyro’s muzzle looked like chocolate.

“Spyro, are you all right?” Tomas finally asked.

It was right when Gavin and Argus came around the corner that Spyro loudly retched. What followed was the most high-pitched shriek Tomas could muster. Gavin visibly grimaced and decided it was best to go get a bucket of water to clean the mess. Argus looked at said mess and was immediately horrified.

“That’s the chocolate I was saving!”

Somewhere in the distance, Nestor face-palmed.


	6. What (Not) to do in a Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The meetings of the five realm leaders don't always go peacefully. Even they, who are supposed to positively represent their realm, get into petty arguments and act like adult children. This is one of those times. Lateef is having none of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my absolute favorites. You shouldn't always expect the realm leaders to have a peaceful meeting all the time. Even Nestor can let his emotions get the better of him. But that's what happens when you have five very different personalities holed up in one room. Fortunately, when fighting breaks out, Lateef is usually the one to put a stop to it. Because the others have seen him when he was very angry and don't feel like provoking his wrath.

Drabble 6: What (Not) to do in a Meeting

Most of the time, the realm leaders got through their meetings without much hassle. This was not one of those times.

It all started when they got into a debate on what to do with the excess gems Spyro collected from Avalar. Nestor wanted to use the gems to set up extra houses in the Artisan realm for the upcoming Year of the Dragon. Titan wanted to use them to create more weapons to replace stolen ones. Cosmos wanted to use them to expand the magic archives. Bruno wanted to use the gems to set up a new electrical system. Lateef wanted to donate the gems towards a good cause.

They all disagreed on each-others uses. The disagreement turned into a full-blown shouting match between Titan and Cosmos. Nestor tried to calm them down until Bruno called him out for being a ‘placid little peacemaker’. They could see the veins in Nestor’s neck start popping out. So far, Lateef was now the only one trying to calm everyone down.

War was declared the moment Cosmos threw a book at Titan’s muzzle.

Titan roared and attempted to wrap his hands around Cosmos’ neck. The two of them went down and started wrestling on the floor. Nestor got up to stop them, but Bruno seized the moment to whack him with his staff. The green Artisan stood stunned before roaring and seizing his hammer. 

“You want a fight, you backwater hillbilly!? I’ll give you a fight!”

“That’s fine by me, you artsy fart!”

Lateef just sat there not knowing what to do. This was unbecoming of the leaders; even him as he just sat there doing nothing. They were supposed to be civil with each other. What would the dragons they presided over think of such unruly behavior? And here they thought the Ripto fellow Spyro described was unruly.

Titan finally had Cosmos in a chokehold as he bellowed, “I finally have you, you pompous, loony ol’ wizard!”

Cosmos shouted and bonked Titan on the head with his staff. “You barbaric cretin! Unhand me at once!” 

Lateef decided enough was enough and decided to put an end to this. He pulled something from his belt and looked to find enough for the other four. In a swift motion, he put four flower-crown-like objects around the heads of the other dragons and waited. A few seconds later, the other dragons paused before falling on the floor and realizing they couldn’t move.

“Those are made from flowers that put you in a peaceful state…even if they also make you immobile,” the sagely blue dragon explained. “Now are all of you calmed down?”

Nestor looked up at Lateef and managed to nod his head. “Y-Yes…if the others are calm as well…”

“I-I’m calm.” Titan gritted out.

“I suppose if _this _is considered calm…” Cosmos growled.

“N-Not like I got much choice…” Bruno grumbled.

* * *

Some minutes later, the leaders were back to sitting at their main table. All but Lateef were covered in bandages and sitting miserably. It was decided they act civil and agree to get the opinion on spending the gems from Spyro. He did collect them while saving Avalar, after all.

“Now, children, what did we learn today?” Lateef asked.

The other four dragons, in low voices, recited, “No name-calling or fighting during negotiations.”

Lateef smiled and replied, “Very good. I suppose we are all in agreement to leave the gem debate to Spyro. Since he’s saved two worlds, I think he’s allowed to have a little more input in these matters.”

Nestor was the first to nod in agreement, followed by Titan, Bruno, and finally Cosmos. They were finally going through peaceful negotiations, thanks to the calm intervention of Lateef. Well, and the other dragons had another reason for readily-agreeing with Lateef besides the paralyzing flowers.

They had seen the sagely Dream Weaver angry one time. They didn’t want to see it again… 


	7. Cuddle (Magnus and Anna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus is a Peace Keeper who prides himself on his strength and his dedication to his fellow dragons. But he gives special dedication to one particular dragon whenever he comes home. No matter their different guilds, Magnus loves her and gives her the comfort she needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another favorite of mine from long ago, and about one of my favorite couples! Now this is one to feature an OC of mine. Despite them originating from different guilds in the Dragon Realms and having a rocky first meeting, she and Magnus couldn't imagine themselves being with anybody else. And let me tell you, I've got plenty on these two to come!

Drabble 7: Cuddle

Magnus always saw himself as one of the Peace Keepers’ best fighters.

Many enemies were fooled because they saw his girth as a means to slow him down and leave him out of breath. Boy, they were surprised when the opposite was proven true. Even agile dragons like Halvor and Gunnar were impressed by how fast his legs could move. He would blindside Gnorc soldiers or a flock of vultures with his agility before literally throwing them away. Then he would go home and enjoy a hearty meal fit for a large dragon.

He was a dragon that didn’t take nonsense from anyone, no matter what realm they belonged to. He’d even give Titan an earful if he felt he needed it. He especially exchanged harsh words with some dragons from the Magic Crafters world. Magnus would admit that he saw most of the Magic Crafters as snobbish and full of themselves, looking down on the other realms just because they weren’t as ‘sophisticated’ as them. He could safely say that a long time ago he all but despised the Magic Crafters.

It wasn’t an attitude that stayed for long.

Magnus came home ready for some rest and a filling meal. He came inside the humble stone house to find it unusually-cold and the fire below the kettle only smoldering coals. He was sure the fire was strong before he left, so why did-

The sound of chattering teeth hit him and he looked towards the bedroom. There, he found a serpentine figure curled up under the mass of sheets, staying as still as possible. It all made sense in that moment when he gingerly pulled back the sheets and found her trying to sleep.

She wanted to have a reminder of home.

Anna was the opposite of Magnus in many ways. Where he was, as little Spyro said, ‘large and in charge’, she was a skinny, serpentine dragon who epitomized eloquence. He enjoyed battle, but she did not. He was a Peace Keeper. She was a Magic Crafter. They couldn’t stand each other when they first met. Perhaps he was too forward, but she was as much of a snob as Cosmos. He didn’t take kindly to her belief that the Peace Keepers were ‘brainless brutes’. Then he found her lost in Dry Canyon, her wing broken by a fallen rock, sitting in the rain, mascara running down her face. As much as they disliked each other, he still remembered how she bawled like a hatchling into his chest.

They started getting along and many of his perceptions of the Magic Crafters changed. The dragoness’ opinion on the Peace Keepers changed as well. Cosmos was still a snob, but at least the green old fart gave him the blessing to court her. Anna was able to win favor with the likes of Titan and Asher and even used her magic to strengthen their weapons. He thought fondly of the day both of them finally said ‘I do’. Thus, she relocated from the cold mountaintops to the arid desert wastelands.

But there were days she missed the cold; she couldn’t get used to the heat. If she stayed like this for too long, she’d fall ill. Magnus wasted no time in scooping the lanky dragoness in his arms and taking her to the den of their stone house. With a single puff, he restored the fire to life and sat down on the large sofa. All the while, he kept her cuddled close to his chest and large belly to restore some warmth.

“You’re too cold,” Magnus whispered, “It’s a good thing I’ve got enough fat for both of us.”

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, whispering back, “Forgive me, darling…I just got a little homesick.”

But the rotund dragon wasn’t angry. He looked at her with a sad smile and replied, “We all get homesick…but just promise me you won’t freeze yourself to death again. Go visit that old crab Cosmos if it makes you feel better, okay?”

“Yes…but right now, I just want to stay cuddled up to you. I’ll make dinner once I’ve warmed up…”

“As long as you let me assist you, milady.” Magnus murmured.

They were two different dragons from two different realms. Their respective realms still didn’t get along in some aspects. But they could agree they never saw two dragons who loved each other as much as the realms were vast until Magnus and Anna met. At least they proved love went beyond realms and portals. 


	8. Night Out (aka Our First Meeting) (Lindar and Yukari)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lindar is out during the night delivering a clock to Lateef. He expects it to be a quick stop at Useni's tea shop to find him, collect his pay, and go home. Instead, he ends up face-to-face with someone he's not going to forget anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another favorite of mine, and it's the fateful meeting between Lindar and a certain Dream Weaver. Now they're my most favorite couple and I'm of course writing about them in The Clockwork King. Here, they have more of a comical meeting, proving a certain dragoness isn't above the perceived kookiness of the Dream Weavers. If only Lindar knew how much more he'd get to know her.

Drabble : Night Out (aka Our First Meeting)

It was one of those nights where Lindar really wanted to stay home and either read a book he put off for months or get some ‘beauty sleep’. Instead, he was rushing to the Dream Weavers realm to personally deliver a clock to Lateef. It was already strange that the Dream Weavers leader wanted a clock that looked like a giant mushroom, but strangeness was common with them. But he would make this quick, unless he ran into those ugly clock fools or monks. After that, he would head for home and get some sleep.

Lindar couldn’t find Lateef at his house, but Zikomo told him to find him at Lofty Castle. He remembered that Useni ran a tea and incense shop that Lateef frequented. Lugging the mushroom clock with utmost care and shooing away some puffer birds, the horologist entered the shop at coughed from the amount of incense in the air. Useni and Mudada were sitting down sipping tea, Baruti sat on a sofa reading a book, and there was Lateef meditating in the corner. Just being around all of them made him sleepy…

“Lateef,” Lindar called with a grunt, “I’ve got the clock you wanted ready!”

Lateef opened one eye before getting out of his meditative stance and slowly walking towards the horologist. The guru-like dragon examined the clock closely, oblivious to Lindar’s growing impatience, before smiling and taking it out of his hands.

“What a masterpiece,” Lateef marveled, “it will go great with the cuckoo-clock you made me last year.”

Lindar scratched the back of his neck and stated, “You’ve always had, uh, unique tastes in design. That was the first time anyone wanted me to make a puffer bird cuckoo-clock.”

Lateef offered a light chuckle. “Our tastes may seem strange to other dragons, but I’m always grateful that you go out of your way to fulfill even the quirkiest request. Please, allow me to give you your payment.”

When Lateef disappeared for a moment to fetch some gems, Lindar decided to settle down for a second and let himself get used to the incense smell. Whenever Lateef burned those salt rocks, it literally burned his nose. Here it smelled like lavender and mint, which made him want to take a nap. But he had to get home as soon as he got his gems and sleep in a not-so-topsy-turvy place. He just wanted a normal night-

“Hellowouldyoulikesometeaplease?”

Lindar jumped at the high voice and turned around, and he found himself yelping at what he saw. An unknown dragon literally shoved a tray with a teacup and teapot in his face, but what really horrified him was the ratty, dead-eyed, sheep-costume-head they wore. Even the other Dream Weaver dragons looked disturbed by the choice of headwear. It was then Lateef returned and saw Lindar backing away from the jittery, mask-clad dragon. Instead of looking disturbed, he only sighed and gently approached them.

“Yukari, don’t wear your costume head in the shop. You’re scaring Mr. Lindar.”

The dragon whimpered softly inside the costume head, only responding with the tray in their shaking arms clattering. Lateef just looked with a deadpan stare and once again requested, “Yukari, please take that off.”

After a hesitant sigh, the pastel-pink dragon put the tray down on the table and slowly started pulling the costume head off. Once it fully came off, Lindar got a good look at the dragoness standing in front of him. She had a head of curly hair-messy from the costume head-that was tied back in a ponytail, wings resembling Lateef’s, wing-like ears, a short-sleeved coat, and a star-and-moon pattern on her stomach. The dragoness named Yukari finally opened her eyes and got a good look at the unknown dragon.

Needless to say…he was VERY handsome.

“Uh…hi,” Lindar greeted apprehensively, “I’m Lindar. Your name’s Yukari?”

Yukari didn’t answer. She only stared at him with her mouth gaping open and dark-pink flaring across her cheeks. Lindar didn’t know if she saw something on his face or never met an Artisan dragon, but he did find the way she stared at him kind of cute. Before he could inquire further, she blushed even more and bolted for the back of the shop.

Lateef sighed and stated, “Forgive my niece, Lindar…she’s very shy around dragons that aren’t Dream Weavers. I hope she didn’t scare you too much.”

“No, no…I’ve seen scarier from a sheep dressed like a scarecrow,” Lindar joked.

As Lindar spoke with Lateef and said his goodbyes, Yukari peeked from the corner and watched him leave. Would he think she was creepy? Or a weirdo? Was he going to tell the other dragons how she scared him? She hoped not…because now she found a reason to start reading those confidence manuals and talk to other dragons.

Oh dear…was this what having a crush felt like?


	9. Drabble 9: An Apple A Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spyro finds himself in Dark Hollow, learning the basics of medicine. While his teacher has some unusual methodologies in her work, he learns that medicine is both a science and an art. And being a doctor certainly doesn't make one less of an Artisan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some new content! Now this is based on the drabbles done by DecalinetheSpaceCat (which are really good). I figured it would be nice to see Spyro learn from the Artisan ladies, and he's starting off with Cheyloe, one of my OCs. The Artisans' doctor may be a bit unorthodox, but they're effective. And Spyro learns that sometimes, finding what you love to do involves breaking the mold. Cheyloe also has a moment afterwards with her adoptive father, a certain scribe.

Drabble: An Apple a Day

“I’m not getting a shot today, am I?”

Cheyloe truly didn’t know if she forgot to put Spyro down on today’s schedule, or if Alban shoved him on her as revenge for grease paint on his monocle.

Not that she minded; she always enjoyed a visit from Spyro. But there was a difference between visits, appointments, and his usual Artisan lessons. And Nestor gave her too much credit. She wasn’t as great of a teacher as the purple fledgling was informed. Just because Alban raised her didn’t mean she was teacher material. The soft spot she had for Spyro, however, prompted her to just wing it. Better to wing it than do nothing, right?

The light-red dragoness chuckled and put her pencil down, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. She assured, “Spyro, you’re caught up on your shots. You’re not due for another one until Dragon Flu season hits again.”

Spyro had to be sure, however. He asked, “And you’re not taking my blood, either, right?”

Ah, she knew who that came from. “Don’t listen to anything Alvar says. He just won’t admit he’s afraid of needles.”

Of course, she would understand Spyro being wary of doctors. For a long time, the Magic Crafters, Beast Makers, and Dream Weavers were the closest to being doctors. Magic Crafters whipped up potions for things like hair loss and burns. Beast Makers created concoctions for allergies and even the dreaded Dragon Flu. Dream Weavers had the remedies for sleep issues. She borrowed elements from all three to be the only doctor in the Artisan realm. But she wasn’t the typical physician in terms of bedside manner. Having a morbid sense of humor and unorthodox methods proved atypical.

Oh, and the drawing of the Gnorc with syringes sticking out of it. Spyro saw it as both cool and frightening.

“So, what am I supposed to learn today?”

Cheyloe sprung up from her chair, fluffing out her purple wings after having them against the chair for so long. The loud sound of her hands clasping together had her cheerfully announcing, “We’re learning the art of medicine, of course!”

“Wait…’art’ of medicine? I thought medicine was a science.”

The dragoness had to explain the concept to others before, but she wouldn’t get annoyed with Spyro. She would only get annoyed by certain older dragons who thought medicine wasn’t an art. Even she had to learn that medicine qualified as an art, too. 

“True…a lot of dragons do consider medicine as solely scientific. Science is needed in studying diseases afflicting dragons, but art is knowing how to put the medicine together,” Cheyloe explained, doing her best so Spyro would understand. “In other words, use science to figure out what’s wrong, and use art to make the correct medicine.”

Sure enough, she led Spyro to a cabinet secured by a locked door. It was to keep out curious little dragons or Gnorcs looking to abuse what was meant to heal. There were several vials and bottles of colorful liquids, dried herbs and roots, odd-colored lozenges, and stacks of skin patches. The vials and bottles had labels on them with their names and…faces doodled on them? He knew Alban mentioned she used odd ‘pictograms’-that’s what he called them-for her concoctions. In another part of the cabinet, there were unused syringes with needles thick enough to pierce through a dragon’s scales. A set of smaller needles sat nearby; he already knew those were for him.

Spyro studied the concoctions, curiously asking, “So, all you use are herbs and stuff that grow around here? Seems pretty easy enough.”

Cheyloe unlocked the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of bright-blue liquid, out of the reach of fledgling hands. “Partly. Some herbs I need are located in the Artisan realm, but they’re more for minor ailments. Stronger herbs for serious ailments require a trip to the other realms. The Beast Makers realm is the best place for the strongest herbs. You can make remedies for Scale Pox and Frozen Flame from a few dried roots or nectar.”

“Am I gonna have to make a dose of medicine? No offense, but I don’t know a lot of herbs except what’s in Alvar’s kitchen,” Spyro cringed.

Sparx buzzed, (“You’d make your very first poison if you did!”)

“Hey, I would not!”

The dragoness laughed softly, assuring Spyro, “Goodness, no! You’re not ready for that yet. Unlike the others, I won’t try to cram too much into your brain at one time. If you want to start with the art of medicine…”

She pulled out a large roll of gauze wrap, a jar of salve, and medical tape. “We start with first-aid.”

Apart from the first-aid items, Spyro watched her drag a giant stuffed dragon from a waiting closet. It looked to him like something she won at Dragon Shores. Spyro silently observed her hold out the stuffed animal’s arm and gesture to an area on it. Instead of her demonstrating what to do, she placed the jar of salve in his hands, prompting the fledgling to gulp. Was she about to make him do all this by himself?

“Here, now just take a bit of the salve and put it right here,” Cheyloe directed, tapping the stuffed animal’s wrist. “The first thing we have to do is disinfect the wound.”

“Disinfect?”

“Kill the germs so there won’t be an infection later.”

Spyro accidentally got out a glob of salve, hastily putting some of it back in the jar before taking what remained and putting it on the ‘wrist’. The smell of the salve proved very strong to his and Sparx’s nostrils. Spyro looked to the dragoness for approval…and she gave it. Whew. She wasn’t high-strung like Alban or Alvar. 

“Good. Now, start the gauze on the wound and wrap it around twice. Not too tight, though, or you’ll cut off circulation.”

Spyro began wrapping the gauze, and Sparx helped by buzzing to two and stopping him. Spyro started feeling his confidence grow; maybe he should be a doctor, too! He was handed a child-sized pair of scissors and immediately cut the gauze away from the roll.

“And…I put a piece of tape on it?”

Cheyloe beamed, “Exactly! You catch on quick, squirt!”

Spyro carefully cut a piece of medical tape and attached it to the bandage. His pride swelled at his success and that he wasn’t put under tremendous pressure. Then he thought about it: this was probably kid’s stuff to Cheyloe. She probably dealt with worse stuff…worse stuff he would have to know under her tutelage. How did she handle stuff like that?

“Good job, Spyro! Now I’ll teach you how to do a splint-“

“Wait, I’ve actually got a question,” Spyro interrupted. His purple eyes scanned her medical supplies and the numerous anatomy charts on parchment paper, finally asking, “What made you want to be a doctor? Like, the only doctor in the Artisan realm?”

Cheyloe’s smile faltered. It was a matter of time before the squirt wanted to know her reasoning. Yes, a doctor was a rarity in the art-centered Artisan realm. But it was Nestor who told her ‘medicine is an art’. Spyro was still a blank slate; for all she knew, he would gravitate away from the arts and be an anomaly just like her. But it wasn’t a bad thing. Even if it didn’t fit with the norm, there was nothing wrong with Spyro doing what he loved, whatever it may be.

Cheyloe sat down at her desk, gesturing at the anatomy charts on the wall, explaining, “Well, I always figured I’d be stuck as a sketch artist. These anatomy charts, for example-“

Spyro cut in, “Wait, _you _sketched those!? They look really good!”

“Why, thank you for flattering me. Anyway, I enjoy sketching, but I never felt fulfillment from it. And when you grow up under a scribe and surrounded by books, you tend to do a lot of reading. I found some books on anatomy and herbal medicine…and I was hooked,” Cheyloe reminisced wistfully. “I still remember the nights I snuck into the library just to read medical scrolls and tomes.”

Her lips curled into a frown. She wouldn’t tell Spyro the entire story, but she’d give him enough to understand. “But I didn’t always use my knowledge for good. I would use it to play pranks, not realizing how much I hurt other dragons. I ended up going too far one time…”

Before Spyro could ask what happened, she cut him off by continuing, “Then, Delbin fell seriously ill. Everybody tried to contact the Magic Crafters and Beast Makers for remedies, but no answer. I studied Delbin’s symptoms…then I rushed out in the middle of the night to Misty Bog to collect herbs. That’s how I got these…”

Spyro watched her point to the jagged scars on the right side of her face. He always heard the Beast Makers realm was filled with dangerous creatures, hence why the Artisans hardly went. Anyone who could brave that area to save someone’s life was hardcore. “So…what happened?”

Cheyloe smiled once again, concluding, “I mixed the herbs together and treated Delbin. It was miraculous how much his condition improved. Unfortunately, I wound up bedridden for a few weeks with gashes and snake bites. That was when Nestor came and encouraged me to be the Artisans’ first doctor. ‘Medicine is an art’ is what it took to convince me. Alban didn’t like it at first because that meant studying with the Beast Makers, but…”

“But?”

“I was told being a doctor didn’t make me any less an Artisan.”

That seemed to resonate with Spyro. So far, he hadn’t found exactly what he was good at. Painting, sculpting, music, cooking…there was just too much to take in. And he struggled with it all, too. But knowing there were dragons like Cheyloe who, as Gavin said, broke the mold, gave him a sense of reassurance. No matter what ‘niche’ he found, it wouldn’t make him any less an Artisan. There wasn’t a gardener in the Artisan realm, or a graffiti artist, or a toy maker. Maybe he could try sketching like Cheyloe.

Then he found it. A book on her desk that looked like a notebook. While the dragoness wasn’t looking, he flipped through it and found something…very amusing.

“Cheyloe, how come you have so many sketches of Gavin?”

Cheyloe froze in place. She looked to the fledgling before snatching the offending sketchbook from his paws. A nervous laugh came out of her mouth as she stuttered, “T-That’ll be our little secret, Spyro!”

* * *

Cheyloe made sure Spyro got home safely to a waiting Nestor. With that done, she concluded it was time to close shop and wait for delicious morning coffee at the crack of dawn. She locked all her cabinets and turned off the lights. Now it was time to head into the back rooms that she called her abode. Most wouldn’t run a clinic out of their own home, but it saved gems and saved lengthy trips.

As she shed her torn-sleeved lab coat, a voice addressed her, “I take it Spyro’s lesson went well?”

The dragoness turned and found a familiar sight. A lavender dragon who, unlike the other Artisans, sported feathered wings and a feathered crest. The monocle he wore no longer sported grease paint from her light-hearted prank. She tried all the pranks in the world and he still wouldn’t lighten up. But maybe that was why he always checked on her, even though she was an adult now. Not that she didn’t appreciate it.

“It did. He’s not ready to learn stitches yet, though,” Cheyloe replied casually. “But I don’t think that’s why you’re here, is it?”

Alban snorted and adjusted his green scarf. “Is it wrong of me to check up on you? To make sure you don’t stay up all night like you usually do?”

Cheyloe smirked, “Your word, not mine.”

Typical. Alban never knew how she turned out to be the complete opposite of him. He was a stickler to detail, maybe a perfectionist. His fellow Artisans saw him as ‘uptight’, ‘persnickety’, and whatever other drivel they came up with. In contrast, his adopted daughter was laid-back, possessed a morbid sense of humor, and seemed intent of breaking the mold. He would admit, it was that attitude that guided her to her profession. 

He scanned the clinic and found memories flooding back. Memories where he was actually laid-back himself. “I still remember those nights I went without sleep whenever you fell ill. I refused to sleep until I knew you weren’t in any pain. I seem to recall bringing you a pillow and blanket when you fell asleep in the library.”

His face fell out of its ever-present seriousness. “That night when you ran off to make medicine for Delbin…I truly believed we were about to lose two children.”

Cheyloe looked at her adoptive father sympathetically. She never meant to scare him that badly. If anything, she believed what happened leading up to it made him…not love her anymore. It shocked her after she woke up when she heard Alban cried over her. Damon assured him the antivenom worked and she still had her sight. It still scared him and shook him to his core.

“But we didn’t. Everything turned out all right,” Cheyloe assured. “Delbin’s alive and well, and so am I. Don’t worry yourself over me.”

Alban argued, “I’m going to worry over my child no matter what. No matter how old you are.”

Cheyloe cast her teal eyes down. She wasn’t deserving of such worry like that. If Alban kept worrying, he’d keel over in no time. Then she’d have to fret over her ailing father and pray her treatments worked. He was older, therefore, she needed to fret over him, not vice-versa. And if it meant getting under his scales sometimes, she’d do it. 

“You should get some sleep before I get to lecture you on all-nighters,” Cheyloe stated, smirking slightly.

Alban frowned and adjusted his monocle, huffing, “Well, goodnight to you, too.”

Before he could turn around, he felt himself locked in a hug by the light-red dragoness. They may have been opposite personalities, but he never hesitated to hug her back when needed. They didn’t agree on everything, he could be overprotective and she could be too laid-back, but that didn’t make them love each other any less.

“Thanks for believing in me,” Cheyloe whispered, “even if I broke the mold.”

She still remembered that. “Well, doctor or not…you’re not any less an Artisan.”


	10. Birthday Admirer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lindar is basking in the glory of celebrating his birthday. But a mysterious dessert and gift on the table has him and the other Artisans asking questions. Lindar learns someone else knows about his birthday: a secret admirer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another new drabble, this one focusing on dear Lindar! Now I believe Lindar gets a little spoiled on his birthday and he's always eager for one of Devlin's cakes. However, a certain secret admirer has a little surprise for him. Of course, she has to be sneaky about it due to her shyness. A few of the other Artisans are quicker to figure things out, but Lindar is just surprised he has an admirer. He'll encounter her again very soon.

Drabble: Birthday Admirer

Lindar always thought that after over three-hundred years, he would get tired of birthdays. But he never did.

The clock-maker had the privilege of celebrating his 332nd birthday. He insisted that it wasn’t a big deal, but he secretly liked the idea of being spoiled for a day. No having to worry about slaving over a desk, going without sleep. No having to skip meals, though too many sweets did damage to his ‘figure’. Though he kept a closer eye on his mane for any grey hairs, he didn’t worry too much about being another year older. The long lifespan of a dragon did well to keep him looking and feeling young.

It was also a day to break out the cider and ale. Spyro, of course, was exempt from consuming these. He was quickly pacified with one of the cupcakes Devlin made. But the _piece de resistance _had to be the three-tier cake Devlin made for the occasion. It was fun fitting three-hundred-and-thirty-two candles on it, obviously. Nevertheless, Lindar knew he had something special to look forward to. And not just the presents like a portrait or a hand-carved tool chest.

“Well, you don’t have any crow’s feet or wrinkles yet, Lindar,” Gavin teased.

Lindar and Gavin always made jabs towards each-other and played pranks, like shaving cream in Lindar’s coffee or green dye in Gavin’s shampoo. It was all in good fun, of course. Lindar wore a smirk and proudly stroked his hair, proclaiming, “Sorry to disappoint, Gavin. I’ve still got good looks for my age.”

“Next year, I’ll be sure to get you a cane to match Astor’s,” Gavin snickered.

Shaking the little jab about his age off, Lindar prepared himself to dig into the cake that cried out for the birthday dragon. Per birthday tradition, he got to have the first piece. But as Devlin went to fetch a knife for it, there was something that caught the attention of Spyro.

“Hey, is that little cake for me?”

Lindar perked up. What little cake? There was only the cake Devlin made, wasn’t there? He and the other dragons looked around and, sure enough, they found what Spyro spotted.

On the table, carefully hidden by some of the gifts, was what looked like a single-tier chocolate cake. No, it looked more like a tart or pie. There was something else that caught their eyes. A box wrapped in shimmering pink paper sat in front of the mysterious dessert. Both of these had labels on them in unknown handwriting saying ‘For Lindar Only’. How no one noticed these before, they couldn’t determine. But whoever left these here made sure to go unnoticed by the large group of Artisans. More than likely, they were left before the party started. But who else would know about Lindar’s birthday party being held here in Alvar’s restaurant?

“Devlin, did you bake an extra cake?” Lindar asked.

Devlin returned with a knife at that time and gravitated to the table where the Artisans gazed. The heavyset baker noticed the mystery dessert and knew two things: it wasn’t a cake and he didn’t make it. He certainly did recognize the type of dessert it was without having to touch it or taste it. Needless to say, there seemed to be another baker in their midst.

“No, no, I didn’t make this,” Devlin concluded, not taking his eyes off of it. “It’s not even a cake. This is a chocolate torte.”

Spyro tilted his head to the side, questioning, “What’s a torte?”

Devlin answered, “It’s a cake made with little to no flour. It also has fillings like mousse or jams or creams. It’s certainly been a while since I made a torte, so I know for sure I didn’t make it.”

“Well, who else could’ve made it? You’re the only baker around here,” Alvar interrogated.

Some of the other dragons began mumbling among themselves. Someone who wasn’t Devlin made a torte for Lindar alone. This mystery person also left him an unknown gift. Either someone was out to poison Lindar…or he had a secret admirer. It was Tomas, Gavin, and Cheyloe who came to that conclusion. Lindar rubbed a few dragons the wrong way, but not so much that they’d want to poison him. There was also a peculiar scent the doctor picked up on from the gift box.

“Hey…I smell lavender coming from the box,” Cheyloe whispered. “Do you think it could be-“

Tomas leaned in with a small smirk, muttering, “Well, Lindar said he had an interesting encounter at Useni’s shop. I believe our dear clock-maker has an admirer, all right.”

“If we have to, we’ll push him in the right direction,” Gavin added cheekily.

Lindar grew impatient. He was ready to dig into the cake already. However, he would have some of that torte once the others were done going over the mystery. He all but shoved Devlin towards the cake and exclaimed, “Okay, we can figure the mystery out later. Let’s cut the cake before we all starve to death! Can’t you see I’m skin and bones?”

Nils piped up, “With those hips? I find that hard to believe.”

Lindar narrowed his blue eyes, but proceeded to put his hands on his hips and pose proudly, huffing, “You’re just jealous I got blessed with better looks, beanpole.”

All jabs aside, the dragons finally got to dig into the coveted birthday cake. Lindar, of course, got the honor of getting the first piece and the first cup of cider. Spyro still complained about the adults saying he couldn’t have any. They promptly ignored his complaints and enjoyed the party. While there was a moment to be seized, Lindar went over and studied the mysterious torte and the gift box.

Well, no one said he couldn’t open them.

He snuck another knife from Alvar’s kitchen and cut a piece of the torte. The insides of it almost oozed, making the light-blue dragon’s mouth water. He never had a torte Devlin made; therefore, he didn’t expect this. He put it on his plate and took a bite and felt his brain implode. It tasted _wonderful_. It literally melted in his mouth and sent him to a higher plane of existence. He still believed Devlin made the best cakes, but whoever made this went the extra mile to make it delicious. To make sure he alone could enjoy it.

Then he went to the gift box. He tore away the shimmering pink paper and opened the wooden box inside. Opening it revealed another surprise. He found what looked like a handkerchief embroidered with his name in blue thread. Not only that, but a bottle of oil lay beside it, none of the contents spilled. Popping open the bottle revealed a soothing lavender scent. Then he found the note inside the lid. 

Seriously, who was this? He was about to find out…somewhat.

_To Lindar,_

_I’m sorry for not revealing myself. Did you like the torte? I hope so. I’m not Mr. Devlin, but I did a lot of research before making it. But please don’t eat too much, or you’ll get sick. I made the handkerchief, too. Use it whenever you have a mess in your shop or get a cold. And if you have trouble sleeping, put the lavender oil on your pillow before bed. We’ve met before, but I’m too shy to tell you who I am. I will say that I do admire you. I really hope that we see each other again when the time is right._

_Happy Birthday!_

_From, Your Secret Admirer_

Lindar felt his heart pounding after reading the note. A secret admirer? He had a secret admirer? His cheeks went dark-blue at the thought. And they met before…but where? Who would make him a torte, a handkerchief, and send him lavender oil for sleep troubles?

Was it…no, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be _her_, could it?

* * *

Outside Alvar’s restaurant, a cloaked figure peered into the window from a safe distance. No one would discover her should they look outside, and it was dark enough for her to blend in. As long as she didn’t take her cloak off, of course. 

Yukari’s mind and heart began racing. She prayed Lindar enjoyed the torte and opened his gift. She wasn’t about to reveal too much in that note. She wasn’t brave enough to do that yet. If she had the confidence to do so, she would’ve attended the party and presented the gifts personally. Instead, she waited before the Artisans arrived to sneak in and place them on the table. Surely no one noticed her. She didn’t want too much attention on herself yet.

She needed to get back to Lofty Castle. The Artisans would need to sleep before long and she assigned herself to their dreams. Hopefully, Lindar would have pleasant dreams tonight. Her heart couldn’t stop pounding at the very thought of him. What it was about him, she didn’t know…but she was head-over-heels for him. If only she could tell him in-person.

But maybe one day. 

“Happy Birthday, Lindar.” 


	11. Sleep (Spyro and Lateef)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lateef is always happy to have little Spyro visit the Dream Weavers realm. But nothing can prepare him for the fledgling being plagued by a nightmare. Fortunately, Lateef knows just how to soothe Spyro back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another one of my favorites and based on a drawing by a pal of my on dA! I love any sort of interaction between Spyro and Lateef, and I think Lateef would be just as protective over Spyro as Nestor is. This contains lyrics to a lullaby I made up on the fly, so hopefully you'll enjoy it!

Drabble 11: Sleep

It wasn’t often that the Dream Weavers got a visit from little Spyro. When they did, it was always a fun time seeing the youngest dragon. 

This was especially true for Lateef. He always adored seeing hatchlings exploring the beauty and uniqueness of the Dream Weavers realm. There were very few hatchlings this time around, and even among them Spyro was the youngest. It was no secret that all the dragons were guilty of playing favorites with Spyro. 

Lateef agreed to watch over little Spyro as Nestor did some construction at Haunted Towers. Spyro wasn’t used to not being by Nestor’s side, so Lateef did his best to keep the purple dragon entertained. That included introducing him to the sentient mushrooms, but keeping him a safe distance away from the various fools and monks looking for trouble. So far, everything was uneventful.

Until one night when the Dream Weavers’ leader heard little Spyro shriek in his sleep.

Lateef didn’t scare easily, but he nearly had a heart attack when he saw the little dragon shaking in his slumber and crying out. The soft grass and calm atmosphere of Lofty Castle didn’t do anything to stop this nightmare. The mystical dragon immediately rushed over and gently nudged the little dragon awake. Spyro gasped as he woke up with tears brimming in his eyes.

“Spyro, are you okay?” Lateef asked worriedly.

Spyro sniffled loudly and wiped his snout in the grass, murmuring, “I-It was gonna eat me! T-The big bull was gonna eat me!”

Ah, Lateef did recall an incident not long ago where Spyro nearly got gored by a Town Square bull. The poor thing was more hurt by the incident than he let the other dragons realize. Well, he wasn’t going to let these nightmares plague the child any longer. As a Dream Weaver and as someone who raised a child, he knew Spyro needed comfort.

He scooped Spyro into his arms and cradled him like a baby. Spyro normally complained about being treated like a baby, but he didn’t complain this time. Lateef watched him rest his head against his chest and sniffle quietly. He decided to slowly start rocking him back and forth as a soft lullaby escaped his lips.

_ “I’ve got you…lying here in my embrace. Feeling such a joy when I see your face. Has anyone told you how much you mean to me? I know who I’m meant to be…’cause I’ve got you.” _

This was the same lullaby he sang to his niece when she was a child. She was plagued by nightmares and could only sleep with this song. Back then, he never saw himself as a father or invested in children period. Now, children brought a joy to his life, and Spyro was no exception.

Lateef kept singing and watched peace wash over Spyro’s face. He could sense the traces of the nightmare and the fear causing it disappearing into a cloud of ethereal smoke. The fear was gone and Spyro slowly slipped back into sleep. Lateef felt his heart and mind ease at Spyro nodding off. If the little one had such nightmares again, he would be the first to try and get rid of them.

That was his duty as a Dream Weaver. That was his duty as a father-figure to all dragons, Dream Weaver and non.

_ “I’ve got you…lying here safe in my arms. I promise I won’t let the fears bring you harm. I love you and I’ll always help you through. I now know what I want to do…since I’ve got you.” _

Spyro had a peaceful sleep the rest of the night. Nestor came and Lateef informed him of what happened. While the green dragon was shocked at first, he was relieved knowing that Spyro was put back at ease. He offered to literally take Spyro off his hands, but Lateef didn’t mind cradling the little dragon a bit longer.

If only Spyro knew how much all the dragons loved him…


	12. The Pudding Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin should've gotten used to Alvar's abrasive, critical, and angry personality by his teenage years. Being raised by him should've done that. But after Gavin comes back with surprising changes, what happens damages the relationship between him and the dragon that raised him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now this is based on a headcanon that Gavin was raised by Alvar and Devlin, thus he used to live in Town Square. I also believe that Alvar wasn't too keen on Gavin getting tattoos and gauges and his nose-ring. So Alvar does something he regrets in the years to come, leading to what the Artisan Realm knows as the 'pudding incident'.

Drabble 12: The Pudding Incident

Gavin was surprised he wasn’t already deaf from all the shouting he heard.

It wasn’t shouting that happened all of a sudden. No, it was shouting that happened on a daily basis. It was shouting he heard since the first day he worked in Alvar’s kitchen. Of course, the one doing the shouting was the red dragon himself. No wonder Devlin spent most of the time hovering around the oven.

Gavin was just a teen sporting a fresh bit of peach fuzz on his upper lip and having a little muscle. But despite his appearance, he was as gentle and passive as he could be. Perhaps it was because of this nature that he often got the brunt of Alvar’s frustration. Maybe he was yelling at him to ensure he could take it, but it didn’t make it hurt less.

But Gavin always stood and took it, not showing any reaction until he talked to Devlin in private. And then this night happened.

He’d been sneaking around lately, and not from doing odd jobs to save up gems. After spotting a Peace Keeper showing them off, he took an immediate interest in tattoos and piercings. He wanted them badly, but Alvar would throw a fit should he have them. The red dragon emphasized looking ‘classy’ if working as a cook under him. But Gavin was getting a rebellious spirit, so he sneaked out in the middle of the night several times.

Tonight he’d be responsible for serving the realm leaders dinner Alvar prepared. Gavin wore a jacket and kept his face covered for most of the day, alerting Devlin. The baker thought something had happened and that Alvar was responsible. However, nothing could have prepared the older dragons for what happened to Gavin. 

Gavin was finally forced to take off his hood and coat to reveal the changes in his appearance. A bull ring now hung between his nostrils and his arm sported fresh tattoos. It would be nights later that he would add gauges in his horns. The leaders seeing him were stunned at first, but apart from a few comments from Cosmos, they blew it off. Devlin also played it off and saw it as a typical teenager trend.

Alvar was livid.

“GAVIN! You dare come work in MY restaurant looking like THAT!? Looking like a hooligan!?”

Gavin opened his mouth a few times to answer, but the words were stuck in his throat. Nestor attempted to calm Alvar down, but the red dragon ignored the Artisan leader’s words and closed in on the young blue dragon. 

“You wish to humiliate me!? I’ll show you what real humiliation is!”

Alvar grabbed the closest thing-a bowl of tapioca pudding intended for the leaders-and dumped the contents onto Gavin’s head. Gavin stood silently as tapioca pudding dripped down his face and other dining dragons started pointing and laughing. The leaders-even Bruno-were horrified by Alvar’s angry outburst and what he did to Gavin. Devlin came out of the kitchen and prepared to give Alvar a tongue-lashing.

Alvar just crossed his arms and gave Gavin the ‘you’ll thank me later’ look. “Now, get back into the kitchen and clean up…and stay there so no one will see that mess on your body.”

That was the last straw. Wiping his face, Gavin glared at the red dragon and growled out, “No…I quit.”

Gavin threw his apron down in front of a stunned Alvar and left the restaurant. He immediately went home, gathered all the gems he saved up, and left without a word. He would go to Stone Hill and get a start on his coffee shop, even if it was just a little stand at first. He’d make more gems to build the actual shop. He didn’t care if it was still in the Artisan realm; he was at least some distance away from Alvar. 

Devlin came looking for him and offered him some tiramisu. The heavyset baker explained that Nestor harshly chewed Alvar out for his unruly behavior and made him control his anger. He also confessed that Alvar was very regretful of what he did and wanted Gavin to come back. But as much as Gavin would miss Devlin, he refused to come back. He was ready to be on his own and live life on his terms. He never wanted to be humiliated like that again.

He would see Alvar from time-to-time and barely speak two words to him. Now here he was, right arm covered in tattoos, gauges in his horns, the same bull ring in his nostrils, and curled-up mustache, running a successful cafe. He also explored another passion: bodybuilding. Now he could spend his days making coffee and showing off his muscles. But now he also had a confidence to back it up.

He forgave Alvar somewhat, but he’d never work in a restaurant with him again. It was better that way. Even if Alvar managed to control his temper to a degree and did some mellowing out, it was still best that Gavin not reside in Town Square again…


	13. Pets of the Wrong Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyle knew something was up when his son and son's best friend had something behind their backs. He never expected that the baby of the Beast Makers brought home one of those unholy things for a pet. It's up to him to dissuade her and explain why those little blue devils couldn't be pets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an old favorite of mine involving the Beast Makers, and contains a few OCs. Lyle is one of my favorite Beast Makers and I believe he's pretty easy-going, but he has his limits. The littlest Beast Maker bringing home one of the natural enemies of the Beast Makers pushes his limits. A classic scenario of a child bringing home something that shouldn't be a pet and calmly explaining why it must stay in the wild.

Drabble 13: Pets of the Wrong Kind

“Oh, no, no, NO. She is NOT keeping that.”

Lyle considered himself one of the more easygoing Beast Makers. It was rare for anything to ruin his day or send him off with a bad attitude. Isaak could hit him in the head with his crab-clawed staff and he’d be able to laugh it off. If something made him angry, it was for good reason. Right now, what the two adolescent dragons before him just explained made him angry.

The dragons were his son, Cray, and his friend, Rashawn. Both of them came in a hurry back to the Tree Tops and feverishly explaining something to him, but they spoke so fast he had to tell them to explain it calmly. From behind his back, Rashawn brought out his baby sister and only Beast Maker hatchling, Sharese. From behind Cray’s back…was a cage with a young Attack Frog in it. Lyle at first thought his son stopped being a bonehead for once and brought home dinner. Then he was told little Sharese found it and insisted on keeping it as a pet.

In Misty Bog. Where Rosco lived. Rosco was terrified of Attack Frogs.

With Sharese aside, Lyle did his best to keep his cool and lecture the two teens on letting her cozy up to the thing. “She can’t keep an Attack Frog for a pet! It’ll eat ‘er alive, an’ then Bruno’s gonna kill all three of us!”

“Dad, we already tried to tell her it’s dangerous,” Cray desperately explained in a hiss, “She doesn’t wanna let it go!”

Rashawn did his best to keep things cool between father and son, but they got along as much as Gnorcs and dragons. “I told ‘er I’d get ‘er a real frog from th’ Artisans, but she wants…Mopsy.”

Lyle’s green eyes widened in disbelief. “She _named_ it!?”

“Unca Lyle, Mopsy wants out of ‘er cage,” the tiny dragoness called, “Can I give ‘er some dragon fruit?”

“Just a minute, sweetheart!” Lyle called before turning his attention back to the two dragons and asking, “How’d she even get around that thing, anyway?”

Cray and Rashawn looked at each other for a moment, then the former stated in a deadpan tone, “She fed it a piece of bologna.”

The heavyset dragon smacked his forehead with a sigh and considered his options. He could outright tell the hatchling that the Attack Frog was a very dangerous animal that could hurt her and take it away right then. He could also do the easy thing and just take the frog and throw it over the edge of one of the trees. Both of those options would end with Sharese throwing a tantrum or being scarred for life. Besides, she was too young to understand why Beast Makers and Attack Frogs were mortal enemies. He had to explain it to her…gently.

Lyle carefully avoided the cage with the angry frog and knelt down in front of the hatchling, wearing a somber look on his face. “Look, ‘Rese…we can’t keep Mopsy.”

Sharese immediately looked heartbroken and tears welled up in her brown eyes. “But…why, Unca Lyle?”

“Because she’s probably got a family in th’ bog missin’ ‘er. You wouldn’t wanna be taken from your family an’ kept in a cage, would you?” When he saw the hatchling shake her head, he gave her an understanding smile and patted her head. “We’ll take Mopsy home so she can live free, and maybe I can talk to Bruno ‘bout lettin’ you have a frog from th’ Artisans. How ‘bout that?”

The tiny dragoness pondered over the older dragon’s offer, and soon she wiped her snout and nodded her head. “…’Kay, Unca Lyle. I want Mopsy happy.”

Lyle gave the hatchling a hug before picking up the cage and preparing to head to Misty Bog. But right as he and the younger dragons prepared to walk out the door, he came face-to-face with Bruno and Rosco. He didn’t know why they showed up out-of-the-blue to Tree Tops, but he knew he was in trouble with a hatchling and an Attack Frog within a foot of each other.

Unfortunately, Sharese didn’t understand that. Instead, she happily pointed to the cage and shouted, “Unca Bruno, Unca Rosoc, we’re gonna take Mopsy back home!”

Rosco locked eyes with the hissing Attack Frog and screamed.


	14. Never Too Old to Learn (Cosmos and Boldar)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite his rigid and perfectionist demeanor, Cosmos is ready to help out a dragon in need. Especially the elderly Magic Crafters. However, Boldar still has lessons to teach the Magic Crafters' leader, and one is never too old to learn new things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another favorite (because the Magic Crafters need more love). Cosmos is one of my favorite dragons to write about. Here we have a softer side to him when it comes to his seniors, particularly Boldar. No matter how old you are, you're never too old to learn new things and relearn some things, too. I believe Boldar raised Cosmos into the dragon he is today, but he's still there to aide him in guiding the younger generations.

Drabble 14: Never Too Old to Learn

The cold mountaintops of the Magic Crafters realm wasn’t best for an old dragon’s joints.

Cosmos knew it was just a matter of time before he joined the ranks of the other elders in aching joints and fading memory. Until then, he had to watch his potential future through the elderly Magic Crafters. It made him more frustrated when the younger ones jokingly called him ‘old man’. Or when Titan called him ‘loony old wizard’. 

But in spite of all that, he was never above helping the elderly.

A pained look etched into his face when he saw Boldar. He was the oldest of the Magic Crafters and it always showed. While Zander hunched over with age and Altair began getting spotty memory, Boldar had the pleasure of both ends. Cosmos remembered the day Boldar started relying on the cane…and when he had trouble lifting his equally-aged cauldron. It was a far-cry from the days when Cosmos was just a young dragon.

The green Magic Crater jumped the moment he heard the cane fall. How the glass potion globe on top didn’t shatter, he didn’t know. But that was the least of his concerns. He looked to see Boldar straining to pick it up and further aggravate his back and hips. Physically, he was no longer the Boldar who raised him…but mentally, he was still there. And he knew he had to help; both as leader and former student.

“Boldar, let me get that for you,” Cosmos offered.

But Boldar was a bit stubborn. He didn’t want the younger dragons worrying over him so much. He waved his hand nonchalantly and rebuffed, “No, no, no need, Cosmos. I can take care of myself just fine.”

Cosmos frowned, challenging, “And how do you know that?”

“Well, I raised you, didn’t I?” Boldar teased.

That he did. In fact, he raised many of the now-middle-aged Magic Crafters from eggs. To this day, he still minded after the young ones from their eggs. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the strength or energy to keep up with them. It was up to Kelvin to organize the eggs now. Eldrid had the energy to keep making potions he couldn’t. And most teaching had to be left to Cosmos and Cedric. 

Cosmos knew what went on under the surface. Boldar just wanted to show he was still useful in his old age. He shouldn’t have to prove he was useful.

“You did raise me,” the Magic Crafter leader acknowledged, “and now I’m returning the favor by helping you. Now let’s get you out of the cold.”

If anything, it was in Boldar’s best interest to retire to the warm and sunny Artisan realm. Or start taking frequent trips to the soothing hot springs. As much as Cosmos preached on letting dragons take care of themselves after a certain age, he never stopped worrying. He never stopped worrying about the elderly, he never stopped worrying about the hatchlings. 

Cosmos got Boldar inside his home and put to work making a warm fire. Boldar appreciated his former student helping him, but there were times some help was too much help. Boldar wasn’t worth worrying over; Cosmos needed to focus on his leadership duties. If he worried too much, he’d be sporting grey scales too soon. He still had enough in him to keep playing cards with the other realms’ elders. He could still give a young dragon a good ‘whap’ with his cane.

“Stop fretting so much, Cosmos,” Boldar lectured. “If you keep this up, you’ll be as old as I am before it’s time.”

“Well, do understand that you’re not as young as you used to be,” Cosmos countered sternly. “Then you wonder why I fret over you.”

Boldar only smiled at his former student. It was just like him to be so persnickety over little things. “I may be old, but I’m not feeble. I’ve still got a sharp-enough mind to set dragons straight. And I’ll tell you, teacher-to-student, that you need to learn to not place the worlds’ burdens on your shoulders.”

Cosmos faltered and looked away, mumbling, “N-Nevertheless…don’t do anything beyond your capabilities-”

“The young ones will do fine, as will the old,” Boldar interrupted. “Don’t try to regulate a dragon’s life. Instead, be not just a leader or teacher, but be a father. Guide the young ones best you can and never stop learning from the old. We have tricks that you haven’t even thought of yet.”

Boldar always knew to lecture him in that warm and caring tone. It worked well on Cosmos and the other dragons. With his strict and commanding tone, it was no wonder some of the young ones decided to be rebellious. They didn’t respond to just a teacher; they literally needed parental guidance, too. Boldar did that with him, so perhaps he should take that lesson to heart.

It looked like he still had room to learn from his former teacher.

“I have a small suggestion for you, Cosmos,” Boldar began, “and that is to take a vacation. You haven’t been to Dragon Shores since you were a teen! Even dutiful leaders need a well-deserved break.”

Cosmos paled slightly at the suggestion. If he were gone, the Magic Crafters realm would fall into chaos. Who else would be able to reign Spyro and Cynder in? “B-But if I’m away for-”

“Balderdash! Cedric can look after things in your absence; he learned everything you did,” Boldar argued. “One day away won’t cause the fabric of reality to collapse! I can already see the grey in your scales!”

Cosmos huffed and crossed his arms. He wasn’t going grey just yet. But then again…was it really that long since he had a vacation? He was a workaholic, he confessed, and that often meant putting leisure time away. What he considered leisure time was studying from a spell book. Perhaps…ah, once again, Boldar still taught him new things.

“I shall…consider a vacation,” Cosmos assured.

Boldar beamed, “Now that’s what I want to hear! And don’t mind me…I still owe Ivor and Astor a card game. They won’t beat me yet!”

Despite all his fretting, Cosmos found himself smiling warmly.


	15. Morse Code (Tomas and Gildas)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tomas wakes up realizing he has a bad bout of laryngitis. While seeking out the local doctor, he witnesses horror going on in Stone Hill. How can he call for help when he's lost his voice?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first I've ever written centered on Tomas, one of my favorite Artisans! I'm sure that as a bard, one of his greatest fears is losing his voice. That's the case when he comes down with a case of laryngitis. And at the worst of times, too!

Drabble 15: Morse Code

“Tomas, what in the world are you trying to tell me?”

Tomas looked at the befuddled Gildas as though he wanted to scream. He just resorted to putting his hands on his head and yanking his hat off. He would scream if he could, but he couldn’t even make a whispering noise as of late. The dragon bard, who prided himself on his voice for all to hear, was hit by every singer’s worst nightmare: laryngitis. He was hit with this horrible condition at the worst of times when he needed to tell someone what was wrong.

He woke up that morning with his throat beyond sore, coughing and hacking and trying to regain his voice. It only made the pain in his throat worse and he had to make his way to the doctor in Dark Hollow. But dragon luck would catch Tomas when he trudged out of his house with a towel around his neck. Argus came by and quickly told him said doctor was at her usual hangout at Gavin’s coffee shop, so he’d have to wait. But he couldn’t wait and immediately went to Stone Hill.

He saw it right when he entered Stone Hill. Astor was shuffling around in the courtyard of the castle and mumbling to himself. In the middle of the day the old dragon was sleepwalking, which didn’t surprise Tomas. What did surprise him was when Astor edged closer and closer to the empty well towards the middle of the courtyard. No one else was around, and Tomas tried in vain to warn the old dragon. Oh yeah, his voice was shot.

The bard dragon watched in horror as Astor fell down the well with a thud. Tomas recoiled from the noise and looked down into the well. He could fly down there and get the old dragon, but age and not caring too much about his diet made Astor heavier than usual. Tomas knew he had to get help, so he darted to Lindar’s shop first.

No Lindar in sight, just a note saying he went to the Dream Weavers to deliver a clock. He went to the coffee shop in hopes of finding Gavin or Cheyloe. The coffee shop, to his horror, was empty. Who else was around? It was then he looked up and saw Gildas fetching supplies from his shed while holding a bowl of cereal. Gildas…he had to get Gildas!

Right before Gildas could close his door, Tomas burst inside and almost knocked the blue painter over. Gildas saved his cereal and looked at the bard like he was crazy, asking, “Tomas, what’s wrong with you?”

Tomas did his best to tell him, but nothing but a croak came out of his mouth. He tried another approach: good ol’ charades. Unfortunately, he was never good at charades and just made himself look insane in Gildas’ eyes.

“Tomas, what in the world are you trying to tell me?” Gildas asked as he sat down.

Wanting to scream, Tomas found a piece of paper and a quill sitting on the table. He frantically grabbed it and tried to write down his important message, but the ink in the quill was dryer than a bone. He threw the quill away in frustration and was ready to force a scream out…until he saw the spoon in Gildas’ bowl. He never thought he’d end up using what his old buddy Marco taught him, but…

Tomas lunged forward and plucked the spoon from Gildas’ cereal bowl. Before the blue painter could ask why he was acting crazy, he saw the bard tapping the handle of the spoon in a recognizable rhythm. He was astounded that Tomas knew Morse Code, but he hid it to listen carefully and decipher his fellow dragon’s message.

“Astor…fell…down…well…stop. Need…help…at…once…stop,” Gildas’ eyes widened and he shot up from his seat, finishing, “No…one…else…around…stop!”

Gildas and Tomas both flew out the door to go and help the elderly dragon out of the well. After much struggling and finally attracting the attention of the other dragons sans Lindar, Astor was safely rescued from the well with only a sprained ankle and a complaint about his nap ending. Gavin helped Astor get home after his ankle was treated, while Cheyloe rewarded Tomas with herbal lozenges for his laryngitis and a request to Nestor for everyone to learn Morse Code.

With all of that said and done, Tomas decided to spend the rest of the day curled up in bed with hot honey tea and a swollen sense of pride. And they said knowing Morse Code wasn’t something he needed. 


	16. Early Morning (Gavin and Cheyloe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin has the usual routine when he opens up the cafe each morning. He also knows who's his first customer the moment the door unlocks. The Artisans notice something so obvious between the two that they aren't aware of. Or are afraid to acknowledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another favorite of mine! Being friends since childhood allows Gavin and Cheyloe to know each other like the backs of their wings. From the time Gavin opens up shop to what coffee Cheyloe orders. But they have something between them they aren't aware of yet. The other Artisans can smell it a mile away, though.

Drabble 16: Early Morning

Gavin knew he had to get out of bed, but his body insisted he stay curled up under the covers.

He peeled himself from the mattress and realized both his hair and mustache were out of place. He was having such a great dream, and it just had to come to an end. Why couldn’t the Dream Weavers make such dreams last longer? With a small sigh, he stretched his wings out and cracked his neck a few times. Early morning came once again, and he had to get the café running.

The blue dragon cleaned himself up and threw on his trusty suspenders and bum bag. He made sure to catch himself in the mirror before he left and flex his arms just for fun. It was fun to hold flexing competitions with Delbin or some of the Peace Keepers. Of course, he would usually win and always had one dragon in particular cheering him on. At least the losers of those competitions still came to him for a hot cup of coffee or steamed dragon fruit juice.

He flew across the vast fields of Stone Hill and landed in front of his café. So far, none of his regular customers arrived or waited by the door, but that gave him enough time to get things up and running. By the time he unlocked the door and stepped inside, coffee was already brewing and cups were cleaned. Now all he had to do was flip the sign and let the customers in. Gavin stepped outside the door and flipped the sign to ‘Open’, and that’s when he heard a loud yawn from behind him.

Ah, his first customer each morning.

Gavin smirked and looked at the light-red dragoness approaching, asking, “Another all-nighter?”

Cheyloe rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and murmured, “Am I that obvious?”

“Well, last time, I caught you sleeping on your desk,” Gavin spoke in a playful tone, “I normally don’t hand-deliver coffee to other dragons, but I’ll give you leniency as my best friend.”

“I’m glad I get that leniency,” the dragoness teased, “I guess I’ll start giving you discounts on medicine for too many flexing competitions.”

Gavin feigned being shocked and put a hand to his chest, grinning all the way, “Oh, but I’m not worthy of such from the greatest doctor in the Artisan realm! I am but a humble barista!”

Cheyloe smirked and put her hands on her hips, noting, “Ah, but the greatest doctor in the Artisan realm can’t survive without a cup of coffee from said humble barista. Especially when Spyro’s a frequent patient.”

“That’s a job in and of itself!”

The two shared a laugh as always. Neither of them changed much since they met as young dragons, and all over a cup lost in the snow. But as best friends, they watched each other grown in the dragons they were now and were always there for each other when one was in need. Gavin stepped aside and held his arm out to allow Cheyloe entry, and he smiled as dark-blue tinged his cheeks. If he had been paying attention, he would’ve seen a tinge of dark-red on her cheeks and the glance she gave him.

Delbin and Nevin were approaching the café when they saw the scene unfold. Both came every morning to exchange painting muses over coffee or tea, and they always saw scenes like this unfold every early morning. The two dragons exchanged a look; both of them jested over everything, and yet they couldn’t spit out what they really felt for each other.

“It’s so obvious, it hurts.” Nevin sighed with a hint of annoyance.

Delbin looked at him with a smile, adding, “Obvious to everyone except them. It’s like a cliché out of one of Darius’ plays.”

The yellowish dragon put a claw to his stubbled chin and fought not to roll his eyes. “If this keeps up, they’ll grow old and die before realizing they love each other. What will it take for them to finally confess their feelings, a truth serum?”

“Who knows? Maybe Spyro will do something to help them.” Delbin laughed.

Delbin didn’t realize what he spoke would end up being a prediction of the future…


	17. Friend and Protector (Spyro and Sparx)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Spyro is shocked by the birthday surprise the other Artisan dragons have in store for him. But nothing compares to the surprise Sparx has in store for him. Spyro realizes Sparx is willing to do more than just be his closest confidant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an interesting request I got from long ago! I'd say being the only Artisan hatchling, Spyro got spoiled plenty on his birthdays. But nothing compares to one birthday where Sparx has a special surprise for him. This is when Spyro realizes just how far Sparx is willing to go for him.

Drabble 17: Friend and Protector

Spyro didn’t understand why the grounds of the Stone Hill castle were quiet. No dragons out painting or sculpting, no smells from the cafe, no sound of Nestor taking a hammer to wood and stone, and no dragon in sight period. As young as he was, Spyro knew this wasn’t normal. There would be at least one dragon around to watch him because he was, in their words, ‘too little’.

It was then he noticed someone else was missing, too. Where was Sparx? He was always there when he got up each morning. He was there right before he took an afternoon nap, too! The dragonfly going missing really worried Spyro. Did that monster from all the tales Tomas told him-Gnasty Gnorc-come and take them all away? Maybe going into the castle would provide answers…

The castle was darker than usual, and Spyro actually started to get scared. Where was Nestor? Where was Lindar? Where was anybody?

“H-Hello? Nestor? Lindar? Tomas? A-Anybody?”

The lights suddenly came on and clouds of confetti came raining down on the purple dragon. Spyro stared ahead in shock and watched all the dragons of the Artisan realm pop out from different hiding spaces.

“Surprise!”

Spyro jumped from their voices. He hardly got scared of anything, but this almost made him jump out of his scales. Among the older dragons, Sparx zoomed out from underneath Tomas’ hat and playfully nuzzled the purple dragon’s muzzle. Sparx was in on…whatever this was, too?”

“What’s going on?”

Lindar came forward first and knelt down to look at Spyro, grinning as he answered, “You don’t know, kiddo? Today’s your sixth birthday! Don’t tell me you forgot your own birthday!”

Birthday? Spyro suddenly realized it was his birthday today? How could he forget? Well, he was caught up in herding the sheep around the field and flaming a few of them for fun. He must’ve forgotten from playing so much that day. That and because he was the only Artisan hatchling, he wasn’t constantly reminded by other hatchlings his age like in the other realms. That meant it wouldn’t be a huge parade-worthy party…but it also meant he didn’t have to share any presents.

“It’s my birthday! It’s my birthday! I’m ready for cake! I’m ready for presents! I want fireworks!”

Spyro hopped up and down as he excitedly gave his demands. Nestor rolled his eyes but decided to let the little dragon have his fun. Besides, the best part would come later. Despite his always-serious demeanor, a smile appeared on his lips as he placed the little dragon on his shoulders for a ride. He would allow this just this once.

Spyro spent the evening indulging in a cake baked by Devlin and opening presents from all the older dragons. At one point, however, he had to endure a long story from Astor about how dragon birthdays used to be celebrated. Fortunately, the elderly dragon fell asleep halfway-through, allowing Spyro to get back to the party. There was music, dancing, and a game of ‘Stack the Sheep’. They all let Spyro win, but Gavin was close to beating him.

Though they usually did this for multiple hatchlings, they decided Spyro earned having fireworks just for him. The little dragon stared in awe at the multicolored lights exploding in the sky as the sun finally went down. This had to be the best birthday he had so far. He was so glad he was the only Artisan hatchling if just for this. Sparx was perched upon his head as they watched the lights flashing against the stars. At that point, Nestor decided it was time to get to the best part.

“Spyro,” Nestor began firmly, “I hope you’ve enjoyed the birthday party we’ve given you. I do regret that you’re celebrating it as the sole Artisan hatchling.”

But Spyro insisted, “Nestor, it’s fun being the only hatchling! I get a bunch of cake and presents and fireworks! This is the best birthday ever! Thanks!”

The green dragon found himself laughing, “But it’s not over just yet, Spyro. Sparx has something for you, too.”

Spyro looked at Sparx, who excitedly hovered over him and glowed fiercely. What kind of present did Sparx have for him? He didn’t see a dragonfly-sized gift anywhere. “Uh…what does he have?”

Lindar decided to step in and explain, “Spyro, a dragon’s sixth birthday is when you receive your dragonfly protector. A dragonfly isn’t just a friend; they keep you safe from harm with their magic. However, unlike other hatchlings, you’ve known Sparx since you were born…and he wants to step up and be your guardian, so to speak.”

The purple dragon stared at the yellow dragonfly incredulously. Someone as little as Sparx protecting him? Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? And Sparx had magic powerful enough to protect him? Nestor told him of the tale of baby Sparx slinking across his egg as if protecting it. Did Sparx want to protect him from the very beginning?

“Sparx,” Spyro gasped, “you want to protect me?”

Sparx buzzed and nodded his head, lightly headbutting his purple friend. If he had the power back then as a larva, he would’ve stopped those thieves before they could grab Spyro’s egg. Spyro took care of that himself during his hatching, but now he could make up for his lack of action by giving all he had to protect his friend.

“I think he made his mind up long ago, Spyro,” Gavin teased, “so he’s watching after you when we can’t. Somebody has to!”

Before Spyro could shoot back with teasing of his own, Sparx nabbed a bit of cake and mushed it on his snout. Spyro blinked in surprise, but a mischievous grin came on his face and he raced to the leftover cake.

“I’ll get you back for that, Sparx!”

The other dragons watched with joy as Spyro and Sparx engaged in ‘cake war’. This was such a big day for both of them, and they came out of it with gifts, fun, and new roles. All they hoped was that Spyro wouldn’t try to push the limits of how much Sparx could protect him. But Spyro cared too much for the dragonfly to do that.


	18. Dream a Little Dream of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dream Weavers never rest when it comes to guarding the dreams of their fellow dragons. Yukari, despite being the shyest, takes her dream-weaving job seriously. Tonight, she watches over the Artisans' dreams. She's very excited to watch the dream of one in particular.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not updating this often, I've just been forgetting to! Now this is another one of my favorites I wrote several months back. I believe that the Dream Weavers can watch several dreams at once in a special sort of realm. And the dreams appear as bubbles from cauldrons belonging to each realm. Now this one will lead up to a new drabble before long, which will explain what happens when Yukari first tries to talk to a certain clock-making dragon face-to-face. The lesson will be to never get a potion recipe from a Fool. Enjoy!

Drabble 18: Dream a Little Dream of You

_“Dream a little dream of you…dream a little dream of me…have your dreams for me to see…”_

“Sweetheart, are you almost ready?”

The pastel-pink dragoness singing the peculiar tune looked over in the voice’s direction and replied, “Y-Yes, Uncle Lateef. I’m ready right now, actually…”

Lateef gave a small nod and came out of his meditative stance. While it was nighttime and most dragons would be fast asleep, he often took nights to stay awake and observe the dreams of other dragons, looking for any nightmares that would attack. It was easy to fight the nightmares in the Dream Weavers world because they were physically manifested. Fighting them in their ethereal forms-inside dreams- was trickier. And then there were instances where some dreams were just meant to be left alone.

Tonight, his niece volunteered to watch over the dreams of the Artisans and let him have some rest. He was genuinely surprised that Yukari wanted to do this alone, but he also felt a sense of pride that she’d come this far. He needed to let her do this instead of coddling her…

“Are you for certain you want to take care of this yourself?” Lateef asked softly.

Yukari nodded her head, causing her curly wool-like hair to bounce with each nod. “U-Uh-huh. You rest up, Uncle Lateef…I’ll watch over the Artisans. They have the most peaceful dreams…”

The leader of the Dream Weavers nodded with understanding, but he also knew another reason why she picked the Artisans to watch over tonight. “Very well…but please, don’t hesitate to inform me if you need anything.”

Once Lateef retired to his room for the night, Yukari got to work. She gingerly pulled a bottle from many off an old shelf and stared for a moment at the neon-blue liquid inside. Taking a deep breath, she held the bottle up and slowly pulled the cork out, trying to stop her hands from shaking from the pressure. No pressure…just watching over dreams. Nothing to worry about.

_“Dream a little dream of you…dream a little dream of me…have your dreams for me to see…”_

The dragoness poured the liquid out around her and watched as a blue fog formed around her. The room of Lateef’s home was suddenly gone, only replaced by a void filled with auroras and stars. Yukari gulped and took a step forward to get her bearings, right up until she saw five cauldrons. She remembered her uncle teaching her that these five cauldrons represented the five homes. A sixth used to exist, but there was no need to govern the dreams of Gnorcs. 

“Let’s see…Artisans…Artisans…,” Yukari looked into each cauldron until she peeked inside the farthest one with a smile, “Oh, here it is!”

Yukari touched the liquid inside the Artisans’ cauldron and watched it glow. Multiple orbs resembling glowing bubbles flew out and hovered into her line of vision. Everything was going well so far, so she could sit back and watch the dreams and look for nightmares. She also remembered from learning dream-weaving from her uncle that it was fun to just watch dreams, too. In fact, the first dream bubble she saw came from little Spyro.

The dragoness giggled when she saw Spyro wearing a cape and defeating an entire horde of Gnorcs by himself and being rewarded with the key to the Artisans castle. No signs of nightmares with him, so onto the next one. She looked into another dream bubble-Gavin’s-and saw him dancing with…was that Cheyloe? Yukari couldn’t help but look in awe and smile warmly. Her smile disappeared when she saw a shadow inside Devlin’s dream bubble, so she took a drop of another potion and used it to vanquish the nightmare in a puff of smoke. 

“T-That was an easy one…” She sighed in relief.

And then she saw _his _dream bubble. Yukari’s heart raced as her blue eyes locked onto the dream bubble of the dragon she knew as Lindar. There he was in his dream, happily whistling as he created a beautiful clock that resembled a fairy. It didn’t seem like long ago when she first met him as he visited the Dream Weavers…but she didn’t make a great impression when she wore that horrifying sheep-costume-head to hide her face. He visited a few more times since, but she was too scared to tell him she was smitten with him. So she just hid in the background…like always.

She didn’t know what it was about this Artisan dragon that caught her infatuation. Was it his voice? Was it his eyes? Was it that he had crazy-looking hair like she did? She didn’t know what it was, exactly…but something was there. Why was he so alluring to her…and what chance did she have of saying that to him? What chance did she have of him even seeing her worthy of his time?

Yukari knew she had to get back to work…but she’d check Lindar’s dream bubble again before the dawn came. Maybe it was time to reconsider finding the recipe for that charisma potion…

Unbeknownst to her, Lindar looked away from the fairy clock and at his surroundings. Even in his dreams, he felt like he was being watched…


	19. Our Resolutions Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Argus is famous in the Artisan Realm for his intellect and his sharp tongue on many matters. He's also known for keeping an odd tradition around resolutions. Someone else shares in his odd tradition and he's happy to come home to her each day. The odd couple, like Magnus and Anna, have more in common than most see on the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another favorite with another favorite couple. Argus is another one of my favorite Artisan dragons, and this involves another OC of mine. I would say Argus turns a few heads over him having a relationship with a Peace Keeper who's almost the exact opposite of him. But opposites attract, right? Despite their differences, they're a sweet couple. And I see Argus as someone who's willing to be brutally honest if it means helping someone. Enjoy this one, too!

Drabble 19: Our Resolutions Together

It was that time of year, and Argus knew he had to make and keep resolutions.

Many of the other dragons found this little tradition odd, but he didn’t pay much mind to their feelings on the matter. After all, he managed to stop paying mind to any jabs towards his weight. Though in the years that he learned to let jeers and taunts wash over him, he admitted it made him caustic and at times brutally honest. He always figured that was the requirement of a food critic. Sometimes in order to show kindness, you had to be cruel.

He used his abrasive honesty to convince Lindar to chill and enjoy a once-a-year buffet, and used it to correct some of Spyro’s irresponsible behavior. He bit his tongue a few times, like when he kept one resolution and let Gavin be his personal trainer. There were times when just biting his tongue would end up getting someone killed. He knew that scenario all too well as he went to the door of his quaint home.

Argus opened the door and smelled a pleasant aroma coming from the kitchen. After critiquing some of Alvar and Devlin’s newest cuisines, he was ready for a meal that actually came from home. Many of the dragons joked that he ate well because of his size, but that was a joke he could laugh at, too. He peeked his head into the kitchen and saw a figure standing in front of the oven. Said figure turned her head and flashed him a coy smirk.

“’Ey, babe,” the steel-blue dragoness greeted in a purring voice, “did th’ smell of a home-cooked meal bring ya home?”

Argus smirked as well and leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, replying, “Maybe it was the cooking…or maybe it was the dragoness doing the cooking I sought out.”

The food critic remembered the day he first met the Peace Keeper dragoness named Kaitlyn. Defying tradition, she came to the Artisans hoping to hone her culinary skills. Argus sampled some of her food and gave her a less-than-stellar review…at least the review she wanted. Her food was good, but it lacked heart behind it, resulting in poor flavor on his palate. She called him every name in the book over it. It was later he saw why her cooking lacked heart when he saw just how much ale she consumed each day…

Argus knew a few of the Peace Keepers enabled her addiction, as did her friends. They were too afraid of provoking her wrath or hurting her feelings. When he found her stumbling around one rainy night in Stone Hill, he did what everyone else was afraid to do: he gave her an ample dose of brutal honesty. But what really hit her was when he said that he did this because he cared enough about her to not let her waste away. That was one of Argus’ long-standing resolutions: to never be afraid to be honest with people, even if it hurt their feelings.

He was proud when a week later, she started pouring her supply of ale on the ground after an epiphany. There were hard days, but her attitude changed and her cooking started having heart behind it that Argus thought it was stellar. To his surprise, Kaitlyn made her own resolution: to never drink a drop of ale again. It was after that they began getting to know each other more, becoming friends, then becoming more than friends.

Both were soon enjoying dinner and talking about the day’s events. Everything from doing better at hiding sweets from Spyro to winning an arm-wrestling match against Gunnar. The casual conversation stopped when Argus cleared his throat.

“Well, since today’s our second anniversary…what are your resolutions?” The large purple dragon asked.

Kaitlyn leaned back in her chair, grinning warmly, and replied, “Well, as always, I’m stayin’ away from th’ sauce and workin’ on acceptin’ criticism. I’m gonna add goin’ to Dragon Shores to that, too. Whatta ‘bout you?”

Argus took a sip of dragon fruit juice and declared, “Well, I’m resolving to lose just a few pounds and never being afraid to be honest with others, as always. This year, I’ll add working to make many more years of happiness.”

The muscular dragoness laughed warmly. “Sappy…but I love sappy when it’s from you. As always, thanks Argus…for savin’ my sorry butt from th’ deep end.”

“And thank you for never giving up…and willing to love this dragon despite his, well, sharpness.”

“Duh, why else do ya think I said ‘I do’ two years ago?”

While their tradition on resolutions still seemed odd to other dragons, it was a cornerstone of their relationship. If it weren’t for resolutions, they wouldn’t have these nights of enjoying dinner together before heading to bed. Argus wouldn’t be able to read a book by lamp-light while his wife snored loudly beside him. Every night would end with the large dragon saving his place, turning off the lamp, and kissing the dragoness on the snout before turning in.

The next resolution would deal with the upcoming Year of the Dragon and the subject of children.


	20. The Little Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since he was a young dragon, Bruno was the only one brave enough to confront the local swamp witch. As a result, he was the first to know that she wasn't as bad a dragoness as others said. That doesn't keep them from their usual bickering after so many years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one involves another OC of mine. Now Bruno's one of my favorite Beast Makers (besides Bubba, Rosco, and Lyle), and I'd think he's also got some grouchy old man aspects to him. And what's a grouchy old man without a grouchy old woman by his side. But despite all the bickering they do, they love each other dearly. They'd even buckle down and wear couples' shirts outside the swamp. So for those who haven't met her, meet Cleotilde!

Drabble 20: The Little Things

Young Bruno didn’t know how to feel about the local swamp witch.

The aspiring Beast Maker often passed by the run-down hut on his way to learn under the leader of the swamp. Most times, he would see her sweeping off the porch and watch until she yelled at him to go away. She was no older than him, and yet she acted like any other cranky old lady. There were rumors that she or her mother cursed Zeke to look like a turtle, but dragons with sense knew that he was just born that way. Anytime she yelled at him, he was the only one to yell back.

Lately, he’d been having trouble with the large boars running around. While he matched their size, he didn’t have the strength the Beast Makers’ leader did. Too many times he came home with gashes and gouges from their tusks. On one trip to his teacher’s hut, while avoiding the boars, Bruno was surprised to find that earth-brown dragoness come stomping out with her broom and…put a strange necklace on him. There was a pungent smell coming from the herbs on the small hemp rope.

“That’s t’ ward off th’ boars,” the witch explained, “I’m tired of seein’ ya lookin’ beat up.”

Bruno looked between the necklace and the dragoness and asked, “Why do this for me? I thought ya hated me.”

She shrugged nonchalantly and replied, “I like it when ya yell back at me.”

When she turned to back to her hut, she shot a glance at him and added, “Th’ name’s Cleotilde, by th’ way.”

* * *

Things were quiet at the leader’s funeral. Bruno didn’t know what stunned him more: that the leader died, or that he was just elected the new Beast Makers leader. He went from being an unassuming dragon to leader overnight and he didn’t know how to handle it. Cleetus would’ve been better suited for the job, but they all picked him. He felt like there wasn’t any time to grieve; there was work to be done.

He went by that hut once again and saw a few of the young ones throwing rocks at that run-down hut. It wasn’t uncommon for the young ones to really believe she was an evil witch and often threw rocks and mud at the ‘hatchling-eater’. Whoever started up those rumors needed to be beat upside the head. Bruno decided that his first act as the new Beast Maker leader was to deal with the pesky young ones.

“Bubba! Claude! Isaak! You boys best stop throwin’ those rocks at Cleo’s house! If I see one more rock hit her door, y’all are gettin’ th’ paddle!”

The thought of having that familiar piece of board putting splinters in their rear-ends sent the children running home. Bruno sighed and went to the old hut to check on the dragoness. The door was ajar, and he found her sitting in a chair next to her cauldron sniffling. As much as she bragged to the other Beast Makers that the jeers of the young ones didn’t bother her, he knew it was a lie. 

Cleotilde didn’t look up when she grumbled, “It don’t bother me.”

“You’re lyin’, woman,” Bruno snorted, but with no trace of unkindness, “and I’ll make sure they don’t bother ya again.”

It was high-time he found a way to get her out of this crumbling hut…

* * *

There were many little things they did for each other. Bruno would always bring home fresh frog meat and cook dinner. Cleotilde always fixed up a hot cup of cider after a long-day’s work. He would wash the clothes and hang them outside to dry. She would chase the troublesome boars and plants away. Most of the other Beast Makers didn’t know how they stayed together for so many years by how much they bickered. Everyone, of course, had different ways of expressing love.

Tonight, the bluish Beast Maker put on a cauldron of stew while the earth-brown dragoness sat knitting a pair of socks. They were in their older years, but they still had fires in them that refused to go out. Bruno became a well-respected leader instead of a nobody, and Cleo became a well-respected shamaness instead of a ‘witch’. In those years, they adopted a hatchling brought by the fairies and now saw the others as grandchildren. 

“Who’re th’ socks for?” Bruno asked as he glanced over his shoulder.

Cleo gave him a smirk over her knitting needles and replied. “For you. Your feet stink, old man! I’m tired ‘a smellin’ them in bed!”

Bruno frowned deeply and retorted, “Woman, I’m highly tempted to serve ya cold cuts tonight! It’s your smelly perfume stinkin’ up th’ bed!”

“Oh, hush! Even th’ boars run away from your smelly feet! An’ that ol’ hat, too!”

“Then your nose must be broken! I smell better than th’ swamp!”

Despite all their jabs towards each other, they loved one another as any older couple did. The young ones were too into being lovey-dovey these days…


	21. Tape and Secret Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While on duty babysitting young Spyro, one of the Artisans discovers Tomas up and preparing something. Spyro thinks he's getting an early birthday present, but he's unaware of a special dragon from Tomas' past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another one I enjoyed writing, and it was a preview of another original character I made at the time. Now I always believed that the Artisans took turns babysitting Spyro whenever Nestor had to be away on important business. This night, he gets into a roll of tape and we delve into Tomas' past a bit. Some of you may already know of this special dragon from his past!

Drabble 21: Tape and Secret Gifts

When wrapping gifts for any occasion, be it birthdays, Christmas, or Valentine’s, there were three general rules the dragons always followed. The first was to always make the gift look as pristine as possible. The second was to never wrap a cruel or prank gift or anything intended to do harm. And the third was never to let little Spyro around tape. Sadly, Spyro often didn’t obey the third rule.

“Spyro, no, put the roll of tape down!”

The small purple dragon bolted into the Artisan castle as his babysitter gave chase. Cheyloe dragged herself away from her studies with the Beast Makers to watch Spyro while the other dragons went to a meeting, though she didn’t mind one bit. However, a little dragon like him contained a lot of mischief, and tonight he snuck into Nestor’s desk drawer and found the roll of tape. Spyro with a roll of tape was dangerous. One only had to ask Lindar; it took forever for his hair to grow back…

Spyro was fast, but he was no match for a bigger and faster dragoness. Before he could attempt flutter his tiny wings and take off, Cheyloe dove forward and snatched him. Picking him up by the scruff of his neck, she gave him a stern stare and pulled the roll of tape from his mouth. Spyro curled his tail up and gave her a puppy-dog look, but she wasn’t fooled. 

“Spyro, you know you’re not allowed to have tape,” the dragoness scolded, “remember what happened to Lindar?”

“But I was just playin’ that time!” Spyro pouted.

Rolling her eyes and laughing, she tucked him under one of her arms and declared, “All right, little stinker, it’s bedtime for you. If Sparx can go to bed on time, you can, too.”

The purple dragon protested as the dragoness carried him to his room, but both stopped when they heard a faint humming sound. All of the dragons in the Artisan home were supposed to be meeting with the other home worlds, so who stayed behind? Intent listening and peeking into a dimly-lit room revealed to them that the culprit was Tomas. It was strange to find him inside the castle instead of his tower. There was also the impression that Tomas thought he was alone.

“Tomas?” Cheyloe called.

The bard dragon yelped and whipped around, hiding something behind his back. Once he realized who it was, he sighed in relief and scolded, “Cheyloe, don’t scare me like that! I thought you were with the other dragons!”

“Firstly, I’m on babysitting duty, and secondly, I thought the same thing about you,” Cheyloe replied with a deadpan tone, “I was just putting Spyro to bed.”

Tomas noticed the roll of tape in her other hand and swiftly grabbed it. “I was actually needing that, thank you!”

While both were distracted, Spyro wriggled out from under the dragoness’ arm and bolted to the table Tomas was hovering around. Flapping his tiny wings with everything in him, he managed to get himself into the chair and look at what was on it. He found a box that was ready for wrapping paper, only needing the desired tape. It looked as though Tomas took great care with it and it was meant for someone special. Maybe this was one of his birthday presents! Spyro readied himself to open the box when he caught sight of the name-tag on the side. He understood the words enough to know it wasn’t his name on the tag.

“Tomas, you spelled my name wrong! It’s ‘Spyro’, not…Ca…den…za.”

Cheyloe immediately perked up. “Cadenza? THAT Cadenza? Man, I haven’t seen her in years-“

However, Tomas started to panic and blush madly, prompting him to shout, “C-Cheyloe, shouldn’t you be getting Spyro to bed? Nestor won’t be happy if he stays up too late!”

The light-red dragoness sighed and nodded in agreement, ignoring the bard’s nervous laughter. Picking Spyro up from the table, she spoke, “Goodnight, Tomas…don’t you stay up too late, either.”

Once the two left the room, with Spyro’s whining echoing in the distance, Tomas breathed out in relief and got back to work on the gift. It was true…she hadn’t been in the Artisan world for quite a few years. Always wanting to pursue bigger things, wanting to pursue stardom that couldn’t be found in the Dragon Realms. At least she wrote back sometimes. Perhaps sending a gift would convince her to visit…they had a lot to catch up on. 

With the last piece of tape applied to the paper and the name-tag carefully applied, Tomas felt satisfied with his work…but found a hole that lingered after all this time. Nestor told him it was best to move on and realize some dragons chose not to return. But one thing about Tomas was that he was overly-optimistic. Overly-hopeful was an accurate term, too. Until that day came, he would keep spreading his music to the Dragon Realms and perhaps share that with her, like they used to.

Perhaps… 


	22. Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco bears a pain his fellow Peace Keepers can't imagine. This pain always brings up old wound and reminds him to never get careless and to never take things for granted. But that doesn't mean his fellow Peace Keepers won't come to his aid the best they can. Sometimes just being there is the best remedy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the sadder drabbles I wrote. Now I believe that with Marco losing his wings, he can experience phantom pain even with his prosthetics. I believe he manages it for the most part, but still has days where he experiences severe pain. Thus, he usually stays by himself curled into a ball. But it's in these times that the Peace Keepers pull through for one of their own. I believe they would get him to Zander due to him knowing the loss of his true wings, but until then they comfort him the best they can.

Drabble 22: Nothing

Nothing was there anymore. He shouldn’t be feeling anything.

Why was he in excruciating pain?

Marco sat curled up in the fetal position on his bed, his body trembling and whimpers resounding from his throat. It was midday in Cliff Town, and he knew he had to be on the lookout for Gnorcs or a massive flock of vultures. He couldn’t skip out on his duties as a Peace Keeper, but the pain was unbearable. His entire back felt like it burned, feeling like someone injected molten lava right underneath his skin. It especially hurt at his wings. But there was a problem.

Marco didn’t have his wings anymore.

Marco still remembered that godforsaken day. He was a much-younger dragon, full of vigor and a touch of arrogance. He could beat Halvor and Enzo in flight with his incredible speed. Then he’d proudly join his fellow Peace Keepers for rounds of ale and arm-wrestling. On that day, he was out training with Conan when _they _came without warning.

They weren’t dragons or Gnorcs. Marco hadn’t seen the likes of these things before, though Conan seemed to recognize them. The rhino-like creatures were carrying explosives and were set on attacking anything that resembled a dragon. While they weren’t much smarter than the Gnorcs, these things were much more deranged and set to kill. Marco should’ve listened to Conan and called for Boris and Maximos.

But he got cocky and decided to charge head-on. He swung his halberd axe and downed four or five of them. He got so caught up in the adrenaline rush that he didn’t see one throw that huge crate of dynamite at the canyon wall. That same rhino-thing punched him so hard in the jaw he became disoriented mid-air. Next thing he knew, there was the explosion and massive boulders tumbling down. By the time he looked up and tried to get out of the way, it was too late.

He could still remember how loud he screamed when the boulders completely crushed his wings.

Boris and Maximos arrived and drove the remaining creatures off, but they couldn’t do anything to save his wings. They made him bite down on a piece of cloth as Conan took his blade and…

Marco shivered and balled his fists up from the burning pain in his nerves. Asher told him this would happen; something called ‘phantom pain’. Zander from the Magic Crafters realm talked to him and empathized with him. The old coot had his wings taken from him, too, and he seemed disturbed when told of the rhino-creatures. Marco didn’t ask Zander how he lost his wings because of that. 

Halvor was the first to find him whimpering and ready to break down into sobs. It took no time for the raspberry-colored dragon to gather up Titan and the Dry Canyon dragons to give him support as their brother-in-arms. Marco felt humiliated over it. Sure, the Artisans helped by crafting mechanical wings and the Magic Crafters cast a spell to make them coordinate with his body, but it still hurt. He could still feel the pain as if he still had his real wings. 

Titan, the most macho of dragons to exist, came over and rubbed his bare back when he finally broke down into quiet sobs. None of the other Peace Keepers mocked him or belittled him over it; they never would’ve, despite his fears. They all gave him support to get through this bout of pain by just being present. While he wasn’t too familiar with the customs of the other dragon groups, he knew the Peace Keepers would never abandon one of their own in a time of need, be it physically or emotionally. He just wanted the pain to stop.

“…I-It hurts…” Marco mumbled, “My wings hurt…”

While Titan didn’t fully understand the whole thing about ‘phantom pain’, he knew enough to help a fellow dragon. “It’s gonna hurt, buddy…but it’ll be over. We’re not leaving you.”

Marco knew the leader of the Peace Keepers wouldn’t lie to him. None of his friends dared leave as he stayed curled in a ball and waited for the pain to stop. Nothing was there anymore, but it still hurt. All of this should’ve been nothing for him, but he wasn’t invincible.

Nothing could make him get that cocky again.


	23. Perfect in My Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kasiya knows the Dream Weavers are often considered unusual. Perhaps the most unusual lives in his household. But no matter how others consider her, his love for her is unconditional. Even when her interests are unconventional.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now here's one with Kasiya and another original character. You all may be familiar with this macabre-loving dragoness. I'd say Kasiya had worries that his daughter wouldn't be able to make friends due to her unusual interests and personality. But fortunately, he's glad to be proven wrong and knows that no matter how many or few friends she has, he'll always love her. Next up will be a few original drabbles and an addition to the story of how Magnus and Anna first met!

Drabble 23: Perfect in My Eyes

Kasiya was getting old and he knew it. Most would call him the stereotype of a Dream Weaver: doing nothing but sleeping all day. Apart from a few lectures from Lateef and Bakari, he was still an avid Dream Weaver and did his job to the fullest. But age brought limitations, and he couldn’t do many nightly patrols of Dark Passage anymore.

But as protective as he was of her, his daughter picked up the slack with ease and a little too much excitement.

The heavyset pinkish dragon found himself coming home after a round of checkers with Apara to find a plum dragoness with headphones on and slowly swaying to music. A faint humming came from her throat as she watched over a pot of stew and put away stray dishes. Kasiya found himself smiling at how she always kept their home running while he was away.

“Mausisa? Mausisa!”

Mausisa paused and turned around, smiling and taking off her headphones. “Oh, like, hi, Daddy. How was the checkers game?”

“Oh, it went well,” Kasiya replied with a proud grin. “I finally managed to one-up ol’ Apara’s strategy. How have you been while I’m gone?”

The dragoness kept her smile and held her hands out. “Oh, it’s always good when I’m home in the abyss. Some dogs tried to come by, but I put out some flasks and they went away.”

It wasn’t uncommon for Demon Dogs to try and cause destruction in a dragon’s home, especially when the lights went out. But Mausisa was unafraid of the creatures, even trying to make one her pet as a child. He refused, of course, but gently. He never could figure out if they or the armored turtles were worse. He taught her to put out flasks of a smelly potion to steer the dogs away. If that didn’t work, that was when they called her mother…

“Oh, like, Mom sent a postcard today,” Mausisa remembered as she pulled said postcard off the table. “She found a spooky realm and sent us a cool picture.”

Kasiya perked up and looked at the postcard. Since she overcame her fear of light and with Mausisa grown, Ikaika took the liberty of traveling to unknown areas of the Dragon Realms. The wyvern-like dragoness always sent postcards and pictures and she would always return with souvenirs. She always thought to send Mausisa talismans and spell tags and other ominous trinkets. She always sent Kasiya fossils and odd plants and love letters.

Mausisa always reminded him of his wife. Growing up, even the other Dream Weavers considered her odd and even a bit slow. A few of the elders even pondered on whether or not she had learning difficulties or social difficulties. But in Kasiya’s eyes, his daughter was fine just the way she was. All dragons had their quirks, but Mausisa’s quirks didn’t make him love her any less.

The postcard had a grinning Ikaika waving at the camera as she stood in front of a withered shrine surrounded by eerie statues. Nothing seemed to deter that dragoness, and he saw so much of that in his daughter. Other dragons voiced concerns that the grown Mausisa still lived with her parents, but Kasiya always welcomed her company with his wife’s absence. 

“It was long ago that your mother was too afraid to come out of a cave,” the pinkish dragon chuckled. “Now she wants to see every corner of the worlds as long as it takes.” 

“Do you ever, like, want to go with Mom on her travels?” Mausisa asked.

Kasiya laughed and flashed a grin at his daughter. “I’m too much of an old man now, and your mother has the endurance to travel. That and I can’t really tear myself away from Dark Passage…or my daughter.”

But Kasiya found his grin fading as he looked his daughter in her glasses-covered eyes. While he always gave her this advice before, he always made sure she’d never forget it. “Mausisa…don’t ever feel like you have to change who you are to please others. Don’t ever feel like you have to do that because others think you’re too different. I’ve told your mother that many times…and I always want you to remember it.”

As usual, the plum dragoness smiled and gave her father a hug, assuring, “I won’t, Daddy. The others like me even when I like ghosts and the abyss. Useni does, Kosoko does, Mu-Mu does, Yukari does…they don’t care that I’m, like, into spooky things. I’ve got great friends…”

Kasiya always felt his old heart warm up when she gave him that assurance. For a dragoness most would consider deadpanned and weird, she always knew how to bring a smile to his face. He was so fortunate to be the father of a wonderful daughter.

“Indeed you do, Mausisa.” 


	24. A Rough Start, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of 2. Magnus and Anna, hanging out with Spyro during an Artisan festival, recount the story of how they met. Needless to say, it wasn't a great first meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for having a big delay here! Apart from writer's block, I've been wracking my brain on some new content and how to write it. As I said before, I decided on how Magnus and Anna met. It'll be a two-parter, so here's part 1! And what better day to update than Valentine's Day? You'll see that these two didn't have a swell first meeting. I'll have part 2 up shortly, then I'll work on the 'potion incident' between Lindar and Yukari!

Drabble: A Rough Start, Part 1

“I’m normally not into this kind of stuff, but how did you two get together?”

Spyro gravitated towards Town Square when the annual Summer Festival went in full-swing. It was one of the few times a year all the Dragon Realms congregated in one place. He normally busied himself eating the festival food and playing games, but today he was to assist a certain dragoness for clothing measurements. Or rather, he was taken against his will and forced to dress like a fop. And Magnus enjoyed watching every minute of it.

Magnus and Anna were two of the dragons visiting the festival. Spyro always heard talks from the other Artisans about the ‘odd couple’. Much like Argus and Kaitlyn, it was unusual to see a relationship outside one’s guild. In this case, a Peace Keeper and a Magic Crafter. Spyro himself wasn’t one to be into romance, but he also didn’t understand why it was unusual. He just knew that some dragons, like Alban and Alvar, didn’t speak fondly of ‘going outside the guild’. He only half-listened to why.

But that was what prompted his question. The question succeeded in halting Anna from cutting off his oxygen with waist tape. Magnus guffawed from his seat and leaned back. Obviously, they’d been asked this question more than once and there was an interesting story behind it. Spyro prayed it wasn’t a total lovey-dovey story.

Anna chuckled softly and waved off, “Oh, Spyro, sweetie, we wouldn’t want to bore you-“

“Anna, you’ve already got the kid in your grip; he can hold still and listen for a while,” Magnus cut in, grinning from horn-to-horn. “Spyro’d be surprised to know we hated each other when we first met.”

Spyro’s violet eyes widened at the revelation. “You two? Hate each other? No way, you two’re crazy over each-other!”

Now Anna found herself genuinely laughing at the memories. She finally unleashed Spyro from the stranglehold of tape and jotted down a few things on a scroll. As she wrote, she clarified, “It’s true, sweetie. It wasn’t uncommon for the Peace Keepers and Magic Crafters to not see eye-to-eye. Magnus and I were no exception. But if it wasn’t for our tumultuous first meeting, we wouldn’t be together!”

“So, how did it all go down?” Spyro asked, craning his neck forward.

Anna glanced at Magnus, who gave her a small nod. She knew he would chime in when necessary, but she was the best at stories. She cleared her throat and began, “Well, it all began a few years ago during the Artisan Cultural Festival…”

* * *

_Years prior…_

The Artisan Cultural Festival was in full-swing that evening. The dragons from all five realms gathered to buy and sell wares-clothing, potions, portraits, even weapons-while filling themselves with food and drink. The younger dragons, though few, took rides with the balloonists for fun. It was one of the few times of the year where the five realms came together. However, there were some years where it ended with some spats.

Anna hummed as she tidied a few things in her booth. The Magic Crafters usually came to sell potions or the occasional crystal ball. This year, however, she would show off her potions and her elegantly-if not flashily-designed clothing. Times like these made her rue the day she wasn’t born an Artisan. As pacifistic as they were, at least they had a sense of style. Unlike other realms…

“Looks like you’re really going all-out this year, Anna!”

The lilac dragoness turned and saw two of her friends approaching. Cheyloe and Kaitlyn looked like they just returned from shopping at the Dream Weavers’ stalls. Anna found herself beaming and gesturing to her booth, beaming, “Of course I am, Cheyloe! Master Cosmos gave me the okay to run a booth this year! And what better way to show the Magic Crafter prowess than to showcase my talents in potions _and _textiles?”

The steel-blue Peace Keeper grabbed one of the bottles from the booth and sloshed the contents around. She snorted and mused out-loud, “Wow, so you’re sellin’ anti-wrinkle potions? Yeah, that sounds ‘bout right.”

Anna hastily grabbed the potion bottle from Kaitlyn and deadpanned, “Oh, very humorous, my musle-bound friend. You won’t be so cheeky when you need said potions in a few months.”

“And you don’t use ‘em?”

“Well, excuse me for simply wanting to spread beauty to all five realms!”

Cheyloe cut in with a nervous laugh before the two could start arguing. Kaitlyn could be crass and rub people the wrong way, no doubt about it. However, Anna, as much as she adored her, failed to keep her haughty attitude in-check. Even some of the other Artisans considered her ‘snootier’ than Cosmos. Lindar once pondered how someone could take her down a peg. At this point, nothing and no one could ever humble the great-and-powerful Anna.

Being the peace-maker of the trio, Cheyloe insisted, “Just don’t let it all go to your head, Anna.”

That seemed to pacify the other dragonesses and all was well. And then they heard it.

They heard the growing sound of laughter. Boisterous laughter and a few crude jokes exchanged, something that already had Kaitlyn grinning. Soon, the three could recognize the voices of four dragons approaching. Right around the corner, three of them revealed themselves. Kaitlyn kept grinning and Cheyloe greeted them casually. Anna, however…

“Ugh, Peace Keepers,” the Magic Crafter groaned. A quick glare from Kaitlyn, however, made her hastily justify, “O-Oh, except you, Kaitlyn! You’re much more, er, refined!”

The steel-blue dragoness rolled her eyes before going to bump fists with her comrades. Ragnar, Gunnar, and Boris playfully shoved her around and gave Cheyloe a noogie from each. Their attention soon shifted to the wares Anna had on display. They promptly ignored the grimace on her face as they handled the clothes and bottles of potion on display. So focused on them possibly dirtying her wares, she failed to notice a fourth dragon approaching. She just forced a smile and silently wished these Peace Keepers would _go away_.

Gunnar picked up a bottle of purple potion and swirled the liquid around, curiously asking, “So, what’s this potion for, exactly?”

In an overly-cheerful-yet-condescending tone, Anna plucked the potion bottle from his hand and explained, “That is none-other than liquid charisma. Use it to have everyone charmed with just one syllable to garner praise…or if you’re not attractive enough to land a date.” _‘Such as the likes of you.’_

She paid no heed to the look on Gunnar’s face as soon as the insult processed. It didn’t matter to her what this unruly, uncouth bunch thought on her wares or anything period. But it soon mattered as soon as a fourth voice grunted, “Way to deliver a passive-aggressive insult over some cheap potion.”

There was a twitch in Anna’s eye at the word ‘cheap’. That was when she noticed the final Peace Keeper in the group. A rotund, reddish-orange dragon covered in spikes and donning a Yokozuna belt stood out among the Peace Keepers. His fists rested on his hips and his dark eyes locked with Anna’s sapphire eyes. None of the other dragons and dragonesses mattered at this point; just the two of them. Just the dragon who dared called her wares ‘cheap’.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” the dragon snorted. “All this stuff is too flashy, but I guess that’s typical of someone who’s got such a high-and-mighty attitude.”

Ragnar abruptly cut in, “Aw, come on, Magnus, don’t be too hard on the lady. Titan told you to start being, uh, honest in a _nice _way.”

Magnus, however, wasn’t a dragon to be nice or mince words when being honest. In his eyes, the Magic Crafter dragoness was a clone of that old fart Cosmos in terms of personality. That snout always in the air, thinking of the other realms as rubbish for lacking their magic prowess. None of them would last a day in the battlefield. Especially not this prissy little princess. All talk and no show, like most of the Magic Crafter dragons…

He took one of the garments in the booth in his claws and frowned, explaining, “The colors are so gaudy and showy that my eyes are literally burnin’. But I guess it’s to match your flashy attitude.” As soon as the dragoness started opening her mouth, he cut her off by adding, “You look like you’re trying to hard to show off and make other dragons feel bad for not conforming to your standards. It’s obvious by how much makeup you’ve got caked on your face. What’s wrong with a little natural beauty, huh?”

That little jab stung and Anna visibly winced. Her pristine lips curled into a sneer and she bared her fangs at the Peace Keeper. Cheyloe and Kaitlyn took a few steps back as she lost all her composure. Her voice shrill, she snapped, “What do you know about natural beauty, you bloody, fat oaf!? None of you Peace Keepers know a thing about beauty!”

“Hey!” Kaitlyn scoffed, offended.

“Are you suggesting it’s wrong of me to share beauty with the other realms!? Well, allow me to make something clear for that small brain of yours,” the Magic Crafter dragoness hissed. “I’m here to show the realms that we’re not all about magic. We’re artistic-_I’m _artistic! And I’m beautiful inside and out!”

Magnus wasn’t intimidated by her venom, but felt his intelligence was greatly insulted. He only narrowed his eyes at her, frowned, and growled, “I’ve seen your type before. You go all-out on makin’ yourself beautiful on the outside…to hide how ugly you are on the inside. So do yourself a favor and drop that smug attitude before you get ugly on the outside, too.”

Anna’s jaw fell open as Magnus muttered an ‘I’m outta here’. The other Peace Keepers sans Kaitlyn felt it best to follow him. Cheyloe and Kaitlyn quietly excused themselves to coffee with Gavin and Delbin, but not before the Peace Keeper dragoness took glee in Anna’s state. Only when she was left alone did Anna shout to the heavens and nearly torch her booth.

“I’ll be glad if I never see that Peace Keeper again!”

* * *

“Magnus, don’t you think you were pretty harsh with the lady?”

They all heard the prissy princess yelling at the top of her lungs, but he pretended not to. Magnus let out an indignant snort at Ragnar and felt smoke exit his nostrils. He defended, “Someone had to put that stuck-up Magic Crafter in her place. I don’t know why they think they’re better than every other dragon in the realms.”

Boris raised an eyebrow and frowned, countering, “You sure you’re not basing all your assumptions on your encounters with Cosmos? I mean, guys like Zander and Cedric are pretty humble.”

“Or maybe all the fights Titan had with Cosmos at the leader meetings,” Gunnar chuckled.

The rotund Peace Keeper felt called out. They spoke the truth; many of his encounters with the Magic Crafters had been with the ‘snootier’ members of the guild. And while they were few in number, it was enough to tell him that the Magic Crafters looked down on the Peace Keepers the most. They were so-so with the Artisans, they were borderline-afraid of the Beast Makers, and they had some respect with the Dream Weavers. But they looked at the soldiers like dirt. So why should he have any respect for Cosmos or that haughty dragoness?

“What does it matter? They won’t change how they look at us,” Magnus murmured. “They’re too stuck-up to ever change.”

There was a dark mood on the group of Peace Keepers, prompting them to return home. The quickest way would be to take one of the portals leading directly to the Peace Keepers realm. But once they reached the portals, they found them all to have crudely-made signs saying ‘Out of Order’. Nestor was there putting the last sign up on the Dream Weavers portal.

“What’s goin’ on, Nestor?” Ragnar asked.

The Artisan leader sighed and gestured to the old stone that made the portals, explaining, “Apologies. These portals suddenly started shorting out. The stone is so old they could collapse at any moment. I’ve called Nils and Cedric to help build new portals. Until then, everyone will have to fly back to their respective realms after the festival.”

Magnus flashed a small smirk and chuckled, “Well, I guess we are gettin’ a little exercise today.”

Without wasting a moment, the Peace Keepers flew off, leaving the festival behind. 

* * *

“Whoa…you two did have a bad start.”

“Indeed, we did, Spyro,” Anna sighed in regret. “Both of us were blinded by our preconceptions of each-other’s realms. And we said some things we wish we could take back…”

Magnus looked down at the ground for a long moment. Indeed, they said things they wished they could take back. But if that exchange hadn’t happened, they wouldn’t be here now. He lifted his head and smirked at the purple fledgling, adding, “But that’s why what happens next gets interesting.”


	25. A Rough Start, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Due to broken portals, Anna is forced to fly back to the Magic Crafters realm, meaning she has to start her journey through the Peace Keepers realm. Things go downhill and the haughty dragoness receives rescue from an unlikely source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's part 2 of the story of how Magnus and Anna met! I won't spoil anything, but Anna's going to have a not-so-great time trying to get home. And there's going to be a touch of character development for her and a certain other dragon as well! Next up will be the saga of a Dream Weaver dragoness' attempts to woo a clock-making Artisan...going horribly wrong.

Drabble: A Rough Start, Part 2

“What do you mean the portals are out of order!?”

Anna was beyond furious. Here she was, having to lug around an armful of unsold wares, being told her ideal way home was ‘out of order’. If this was going to happen, what was the point in volunteering to run a booth this year? Of course, none of her fellow Magic Crafters were around to help her with her things; they went home an hour earlier. With no one else around, she directed her displeasure at Nestor and Astor.

“Exactly what I said,” Nestor answered sharply, “the portals are malfunctioning. Nils and Cedric are going to help me construct new ones.”

The Magic Crafter dragoness looked between her wares and the portals and hissed, “Now I’ll have to ride one of those old balloons back home!”

Astor seemed to chuckle at her loaded-down arms. It reminded him of some of the young dragonesses long ago who had too many gems to spend at Dragon Shores. He mused aloud, “I doubt the balloons can handle so much weight, young lady.”

Anna’s lilac scales paled. “So…that means…”

“It means going back home the old-fashioned way.”

There was a visible twitch of Anna’s eye at Astor’s casual words. The Magic Crafters realm was a way away from the Artisan realm. If anything, it would take her days to get back home even with her wings. That, or they told her all this just to irritate her. It was no wonder Master Cosmos only tolerated Nestor for the most part. And he and Astor dare tell her, one of Master Cosmos’ prized pupils, to get home the hard way?

Nestor raised an eyebrow and failed to hide a smirk. He crossed his muscular arms and casually asked, “Are you not able to use a teleportation spell to get home?”

The Magic Crafter dragoness’ face dropped. Stammering at first, she puffed her cheeks out and countered, “I can’t exactly teleport with so many things with me! If I try to move more than myself at once, it’s…well, it’s not pretty!”

The Artisan dragons said nothing; not out of cruelty, but there was no reasoning with this dragoness. If anything, they prayed the dragoness would walk off and stop her complaining. They got word of the confrontation between her and the Peace Keepers, which prompted Nestor to talk to Cosmos and Titan at the next meeting. There would always be tension between those two, but there was no call for it to be expressed by their subordinates. After a silent stare down…

“Very well,” Anna begrudgingly sighed, “flying home it is, then…”

With a grunt, Anna flapped her wings and carried herself and her things home. She didn’t see the two Artisans sighing in relief. But something dawned on her, and it hurt worse than lugging clothes and bottles of potion. In order to fly back to the Magic Crafters realm…she had to go through the Peace Keepers realm. The realm of the very dragons she all but detested. She wasn’t a big believer in karma, but…

_‘No, I wasn’t the one in the wrong,’ _she thought sourly. _‘That overweight ruffian doesn’t know his place…’_

Anna flapped her amethyst wings in a huff and flew in the direction of the Peace Keepers realm. Just grin and bear it and she’d be back in the Magic Crafters realm in no time. If she only knew.

* * *

_Several hours later_

The sound of thunder made Anna grimace. The hot and sticky atmosphere wasn’t bad enough in this forsaken realm, but the static in the air didn’t bode any better. By that time, she’d found herself in where the Peace Keepers called ‘Dry Canyon’. Even a dragoness who’d never spent a day in the deserts read enough about desert rainstorms. What she read told her the blizzards in Wizard Peak were nothing in comparison. 

Her hair now feeling oily from the humidity, Anna groaned and flew faster. Whatever it took to get out of this realm and get home, she’d have to get through it. Then she would loudly complain to her fellow Magic Crafters on the lack of proper maintenance on the Artisan realm’s portals. They had to gall to look at her like she was a loud nuisance, too! She wasn’t that bad; she wasn’t afraid of being honest! If that fat Peace Keeper knew she was flying here with an armload of baggage, he would laugh in that grating voice and never let her live it down!

Why was she so concerned with what _he _thought, anyway? Why be concerned with anyone’s opinion? She was one of Master Cosmos’ star pupils, one of the greatest sorceresses in the Dragon Realms, she was the greatest fashionista, she was-

What Anna didn’t know was that the rock walls of Dry Canyon served as a haphazard playground for trigger-happy Gnorc Musketeers. Especially when they brought a few explosive barrels from Gnorc Gnexus. Today, they had the bright idea of chucking said explosive barrels against the rock walls to see how many rocks came down. It caused headaches for the Peace Keepers. Unfortunately, the Peace Keepers residing in Dry Canyon kept themselves indoors in preparation for the storm. No one was around when the Magic Crafter dragoness flew through and the Musketeers threw their last barrel at the canyon wall.

Anna shrieked at the explosion and dropped her wares. Shadows loomed over her, telling her to flap her wings like crazy and get away. But a life of having to only worry about a pile of snow falling from the mountaintops didn’t prepare her for avoiding _falling rocks_. As fast as she tried to fly, a large rock struck her left wing and caused her to plummet to the sandy ground.

She cried in pain and her body seized. Just moving her now-broken wing sent sharp pain through her shoulder and spine. She heard panicky voices telling each-other to run, then silence. It dawned on her that she was now lost, injured, and _alone_. There were no other dragons to help her and a storm was brewing. Patting her blouse told her that she’d lost her prized wand, too. 

The Magic Crafter dragoness looked to the heavens and screamed, “What did I do to deserve this!?”

The sky grew darker at that moment and the roar of thunder resonated. A drop hit her between the eyes, then two, then hundreds. A downpour came upon the dragoness and caused her makeup to run down her face. Anna, trying not to cry, growled, “I just had to open my mouth.”

Opening her mouth…that was what started this trouble in the first place. She opened her mouth and demeaned the Peace Keepers; demeaned her friends, even. She had that argument with the fat Peace Keeper, then she all but demeaned the Artisans over the broken portals. She was neutral on a higher power at work, unlike the Dream Weavers, but began wondering if this was divine retribution for her behavior.

With a sigh of defeat, Anna did her best to find shelter amidst the rain and tar pits… 

* * *

Magnus hated having to travel through a desert rainstorm, but not even the weather could keep him from doing his job. There was talk of the cowardly Gnorc Musketeers playing with explosives and damaging Dry Canyon. It wasn’t anything new, but it still posed a risk to the dragons. One just had to ask Marco to know why. 

He didn’t bother shielding himself from the rain as he walked. If anything, rain provided a comfort for the humid atmosphere of the realm. As he inspected the damage to the canyon wall and the fallen rocks, he spotted something poking out of the rubble. He bent over with a grunt and plucked it out: an amethyst feather. It obviously didn’t belong to Enzo or Todor, but the color looked familiar. Another look around the area revealed broken and soaked items nearby. Clothes…and broken potion bottles.

“You’re kidding me,” Magnus muttered.

Magnus worried that a certain dragon got crushed under the boulders. If so, the Gnorcs would have their heads mounted on the tavern wall. But the rotund dragon looked and saw a small trail of feathers leading towards the start of the canyon. He hurriedly followed the trail all the way to the rock arch connecting the canyon to the tower near Maximos’ home. He stopped the moment he saw her, sitting in the fetal position under the arch. Her pristine hair drenched and mangled, mascara smearing her cheeks, wet clothes clinging to her scales, and her wing obviously broken. She was an absolute mess.

Anna felt a presence and looked to the side to find _him_. Of all the dragons to find her, it had to be that fat Peace Keeper she squabbled with. The events before were cruel enough; this was rubbing salt into the wound. After years of being taught to keep composed and be a lady, her anger boiled over to mask her shattered pride. 

“Go ahead, laugh! Rub it all in! I know I deserve this,” Anna screamed, sapphire eyes red with fury and her voice strained. “I’m a horrible dragon for not keeping my bloody mouth shut! This is what I get for putting the other realms down! I’ve gotten due punishment for being haughty! Just go on and rub it in my FACE!”

The lilac dragoness panted as her throat grew raw. She waited for the Peace Keeper to smugly tell her she had this coming. Nothing came, not even a chuckle. She only watched him walked up and kneel in front of her, looking her in the eyes. There was no amusement over her condition. There was no smirk, but a faint smile on his lips.

In an almost-apologetic tone, Magnus stated, “Looks like we’re both pretty ugly, huh?”

Anna didn’t know if the word ‘ugly’ made her break, or if it was because this was his way of saying ‘I’m sorry’. Or perhaps it was because in spite of all the cruel things she said to him, he at least came to her side. But with a crinkle of her snout, Anna suddenly buried her face into his chest and sobbed. There was no flinching on Magnus’ part, nor a request to get off. Anna just felt him pat her back with one hand as she sobbed. She kept crying even when he got her up and led her to shelter.

A short while later and a flight back to the Peace Keepers home, Anna found herself in Magnus’ home in front of a warm fire. Her hair cascaded down her back and she wrapped herself in a quilt as her blouse dried. Her left wing was put in a makeshift splint and bandaged. She kept her head down and listened to the crackle of the firewood and Magnus stirring something in a kettle. 

Magnus dipped the contents of the kettle into a bowl and handed it to the dragoness with, “Here…this’ll give you some strength back.”

Anna looked at the contents of the bowl. It was a stew made with meat and a slew of vegetables. It wasn’t something she was accustomed to eating back home; she would’ve snurled her nose at it long ago. Instead, she hugged the bowl to her chest and gave a sincere, “Thank you…”

Despite her misgivings, the stew satisfied her enough to make her keep eating. Magnus quietly ate alongside her, though he made audible grunts. After a while of saying nothing, the Peace Keeper was the first to speak. “I guess you were told the portals were broken. One of us should’ve stayed behind to escort you home.”

The Magic Crafter shook her head slowly. “It’s not your fault. I left in a haste; I should’ve just spent the night in the Artisan realm. If anything, I should’ve asked for help the moment I stepped in your realm, but…I was still heated after our little exchange.”

Magnus looked down. As much as her words were cruel, he was no better. He couldn’t accept the fact that not all the Magic Crafters were replicas of Cosmos. However, hearing her speak, it felt like listening to that pompous wizard himself. Titan warned him before that there was a difference between honesty and using ‘honesty’ to be a jerk. Really, he didn’t believe someone could change…but the dragoness’ sudden change in attitude told him he was wrong.

“Mr. Magnus…I’m so sorry for what I said to you at the festival,” Anna apologized, her voice weak. “I have no right to look down on the Peace Keepers, not when you go to great lengths to protect our realms. You rescued me after I was so awful to you…”

The rotund Peace Keeper averted his eyes and responded, “Don’t apologize, Miss Anna…I wasn’t any better. Let me apologize for calling you cheap and saying you were ugly on the inside. We’ve definitely got a big mouth in common.”

“Indeed,” Anna greed. 

To lighten the mood, Magnus looked at her with a small grin and commented, “I was right about one thing, though: you had too much makeup on your face. You actually look a lot better without it.”

The comment surprised Anna, causing her cheeks to turn dark-lilac. “I-Is that right? Well then…I-I guess I could limit my usage for a while. T-Thank you.” But as her surprise wore off, Anna looked the Peace Keeper over and mused out-loud, “I have to admit…you’re actually not shabby-looking yourself.”

“Are you trying to butter me up?” Magnus asked slyly.

“Just because I’ve pushed my pride aside doesn’t mean I’ll stop being honest,” Anna countered.

The two spent the rest of the evening talking over their meal, doing what they should’ve done at the festival: getting to know each other the right way.

* * *

“…and so I spent a few weeks with Magnus while my wing healed. I certainly had a doozy of a story for Master Cosmos and the others when I came back to Wizard Peak.”

Spyro tilted his head to the side and looked between the two dragons, asking, “So, wait, you weren’t automatically in love with each other?”

“Doesn’t always work that way, kid,” Magnus stated with a shake of his head. “But you could say there was a seed planted then. It just took a little time to grow. It was a while before the sparks between us turned into fireworks, so to speak.”

Anna took hold of Magnus’ hand and intertwined their fingers, smiling at her husband and giving him a romantic gaze. It still made them laugh that their heated introduction led them to be married years later. Opposites attracted, yes, but they were more alike than they could have realized. And they wouldn’t pick anyone else to be with.

“But if there’s one thing we learned, sweetie, it’s that our first impressions of someone are often wrong,” Anna explained. “Sometimes you have to swallow your pride and see someone for who they are underneath…and you may even discover the person you want to spend the rest of your life with.”

Magnus and Anna kissed, prompting Spyro to stick his tongue out in disgust. Sparx just had to leave him to deal with the romantic mush, all to try the glitter sugar Devlin made nearby. He didn’t understand why the couples had to kiss each-other in public or why they gave each-other lame nicknames. But part of him knew that given how Magnus and Anna started out, they, as Nestor put it, earned their happy ending. He still thought the romance was gross, but he was happy that they were happy.

“Now then, Spyro, let’s finish up so you’ll look dashing for the next banquet!”

And here he thought he could escape…


	26. A Toxic Solution, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yukari's efforts to get to know Lindar-or have the guts to talk to him-have gone nowhere. She decides it's time to take measures with swifter results. This leads her to find a solution from a less-than-reliable source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a three-part drabble here, and we're back to focusing on Lindar and Yukari! I've gotten a muse back, as things have been rough lately. But I'm taking it a day at a time and it's helping, and by the grace of God things will be better. Anyway, the first part deals with Yukari, desperate to get things moving with Lindar, attempting to find a 'quick fix' to her problem. But she may be getting it from the wrong source and will suffer the consequences.

Drabble: A Toxic Solution, Part 1

“Um…hi, I-I’m Yukari! No, no…”

She swung her arms behind her back, interlocking her fingers. She giggled, “H-Hi there! I’m Yukari!” She visibly cringed. “Definitely not…”

A sultry pose, albeit awkward, her curly hair over her shoulder. “Hello…I’m Yukari.” She frowned deeply. “Ugh, no…”

Yukari groaned loudly and dropped her arms to her side. “I’m never going to get this!”

This was a process heading into its fifth week. Yukari spent days reading manuals from the library. She spent hours a day in front of a full-length mirror practicing conversation. She sent gifts and care notes in the dark of night. She watched his dreams, for crying out loud! But every attempt to approach the subject ended with her chickening out at the last second. One day came with her face-to-face with _him_, and she _fainted_.

The pastel-pink dragoness held her head and paced her bedroom, ranting, “W-What am I doing wrong, Muffin? I-I’ve read all the books, I’ve practiced with the mirror, a-and I’ve tried to talk to him! Why can’t I be confident!?”

Muffin, Yukari’s beloved pet tapir, looked at her owner with a torn expression. She hated seeing Yukari so worked up over trying to gain confidence. Was this dragon she was so enamored with worth it? She heard the other Dream Weavers say he made pretty clocks and was sarcastic, but nothing else. It would be easier for Yukari to be smitten with a fellow Dream Weaver like Useni or Copano. Even Zikomo or Kosoko would work! But no, she fell for an Artisan.

An Artisan by the name of Lindar.

“L-Let’s just face it, Muffin…I-I’m hopeless! I-I’ll never be able to talk to Lindar, o-or any Artisan for that matter! I-I’m stuck!”

Yukari rubbed her face and sighed heavily, planting herself on the edge of her bed. She had to do something just to get to the talking-in-person phase. There just had to be an easier way to do this. Some sort of instant confidence-

The pastel-pink dragoness suddenly lifted her head up and looked straight ahead. A hopeful smile appeared on her lips and she snapped her fingers. “O-Of course! I-I could just make one of those confidence potions the Magic Crafters use! W-We might have some potion books inside the castle!”

As she got up, there was a tug on the curled hair on her tail. Muffin pulled on the dragoness’ tail with her trunk and gave her a wary look. The pink tapir always was one to try and keep her owner out of danger. Attempting to use the easy way out-a potion-with almost zero experience in potion-making spelled out trouble. Unfortunately, Muffin didn’t realize how powerful a crush was. Or, as Lateef called it, ‘love at first sight’.

Muffin wrapped her trunk around her owner’s tail and tugged. She chirped, (“You could just, I don’t know, go to the Magic Crafters and get some of that potion.”)

Yukari’s scaled paled. “G-Go to the Magic Crafters? I-In-person? Y-You know I can’t do that! T-They’d probably just laugh at me…s-so that’s why I have to make it myself!”

(“But you have ZERO potion-making experience! Teas and potions are different things! You could poison yourself!”)

But Yukari wouldn’t have any of it. “O-Oh, stop fretting, Muffin! What could possibly go wrong?”

That, of course, meant something _would _go wrong.

* * *

Lofty Castle didn’t see much activity from the Fools residing in the Dream Weavers realm. But when they visited, they caused mischief for themselves and the dragons. 

There would be minor incidents, such as Puffer Birds stuffed inside the laundry or some of Mudada’s dolls going missing. Sometimes they would escalate things just to cause chaos. Today, two of the more devilish ones broke into Lofty Castle’s library and made off with several books. They would literally use their trickery to jumble up the contents or simply rip pages out. It always paid off to see the frustration on the dragons’ faces. They always went to the Magic Crafters to fix the books, causing more frustration. But it was what they lived for.

They were promptly chased off by Baruti, but managed to keep a few books. One of them was a worn potions tome from the Magic Crafters realm. The Fools knew back when the dragons first came to these realms, they originally relied on sleep potions to induce dreams. It was always fun to slip a little extra ingredient in and see them come out with all sorts of ailments. It wasn’t so much fun after the Dream Weavers stopped using potions, just relying on fancy little herbal teas and incense. The two Fools decided tearing some pages out was the most fun they would get.

“-almost to the library. S-Surely there’s something with a confidence potion…”

The Fools got an idea. The most naïve dragon to grace the Dream Weavers realm was their new target today.

They flipped through the pages of the potion tome and found an entry of interest. With their own form of magic-magic that helped them remain impervious to harm and to shapeshift-they ‘fixed’ the title to fit with their cruel plan. Then they’d pretend to show a little compassion towards the dragon and give her what she needed. The other Dream Weavers would be in for a treat should everything go according to plan.

Sure enough, she showed up. One of the Fools innocently skipped towards her while the other covered their tracks. It made her jump, but she didn’t look suspicious. The pink tapir, on the other hand, narrowed its eyes. 

“O-Oh…i-it’s one of the Fools,” Yukari gasped, backing away a step. “W-What are you doing at Lofty Castle?”

The Fool flashed a suspiciously-innocent smile and held out the potion tome like an endearing child offering her a flower. Yukari knew from a young age the Fools were to be wary of, but they weren’t bad with her compared to the other Dream Weavers. Just seeing the title of the tome told her this couldn’t be a trick. 

“D-Did you overhear me?”

Before she took the tome, the Fool opened it up to just the right chapter: Liquid Confidence. The dragoness gasped and took the tome, skimming over the contents of the recipe. Yukari’s sky-blue eyes lit up as she read further. The answer to her problem was literally handed to her; this was perfect! She finally had a way to talk to Lindar!

“O-Oh, thank you so much! Y-You’re a lot nicer than you let on!” Yukari immediately turned back to the direction of her cottage, a skip in her step. “L-Let’s go, Muffin!”

Muffin, however, stayed behind and glanced at the Fool. She saw that innocent smile melt into a devilish grin and those fingers twiddle. That thing was up to something, but whether or not she could stop her owner was in the air. She just hoped and prayed Yukari wouldn’t poison herself. But she relented and quickly caught up to the pastel-pink dragoness, who still looked over the tome. She could hear her murmuring over the ingredients in the potion.

“I-I’ve never heard of ingredients like this for a confidence potion,” Yukari noted quietly, “b-but the tome tells where to get them. Let’s see…three chili peppers, crystallized lava, a dragon’s scale, two vulture feathers and…w-what are Malva Blossom petals? A-And all brought together with a dragon’s flame…”

As Yukari read closer, her eyes widened and she gulped. “M-Malva Blossoms are…a-are found in the B-Beast M-Makers realm.”

That sounded alarm bells in Muffin’s head. The Beast Makers realm was extremely dangerous; not the type of realm Yukari needed to venture in. Even then, all these ingredients sounded off. None of them sounded like anything that would boost confidence. It was best for her to convince Yukari this wasn’t worth a crush on some Artisan dragon-

“I-I guess I’ll…_ulp_…h-have to get my claws dirty.”

Muffin wordlessly slapped her head with her trunk. This was unlike the dragoness she knew; she’d never be willing to take such risks before. But this must’ve been the true power of a crush…to turn a cautious dragon reckless. ‘Stupid’ wasn’t the nicest way to put it, after all…

* * *

_The next day_

Yukari was to the point of wanting to sleep in the cold mud of the swamps. 

It was sheer determination-and several cups of black tea-that fueled her current quest. She left Muffin at the cottage and grabbed her bag to start collecting potion ingredients. Crystallized lava was easy to find in the volcanic realm near Revilo’s residence. A dragon’s scale came with a pair of tweezers to her tail and a yelp. Everything else proved to be more of a challenge. She snuck into the Artisan realm and procured the chili peppers from the hot-tempered chef’s garden. Alvar was his name, she heard. Procuring the vulture feathers led to being chased by an irate fowl in question. Now here she was to find the so-called Malva Blossoms.

She studied the tome enough to know what they looked like: reddish, exotic-petaled flowers with bright-orange centers and barb-like stamen. Surely it wouldn’t be hard to find those in the primarily-green Beast Makers realm, right? She would just get as many as she could and get out. Then she could finally get to making that potion.

Yukari walked through the mud at a slow pace, looking over her should every other second. Her feathers stood on-end at every sound in the dreary swamp. The squeals of boars, the splashing of jumping piranhas, or the rowdy shouts of the Beast Maker dragons. Even the snap of a twig made her squeak in apprehension. She knew nothing on how to navigate this realm and slowly began regretting coming here.

No…no, she had to keep going. She wouldn’t let this all be in vain.

Yukari glided towards one of the massive weeping willows in the distance and glanced around. It was then a speck of red caught her attention. To her shock, there was an entire bed of reddish flowers with bright-orange centers. A sense of excitement filled the Dream Weaver; these were the Malva Blossoms! Without wasting time, she knelt down in the mud and hurriedly picked almost the whole bed. She stuffed the flowers in her bag before getting up and flying back to Lofty Castle with a giddiness in her takeoff. 

A few minutes later, Bruno came to the same tree looking for a prime fishing spot. The Beast Makers’ leader didn’t have time to set his bucket down when he noticed something odd. It only took a few seconds to register as he quickly grew irate.

“Which one of y’all ‘s been pickin’ Temper Weed!?”

* * *

From the moment Yukari returned home, Muffin had a knot in her stomach, made worse as she stared at the bubbling cauldron her owner stood in front of. 

The pastel-pink dragoness paid no heed to the tapir’s whimpers as she tossed the ingredients into the potion pot. A liquid base was needed, of course, to make it drinkable. The chili peppers first, followed by the crystallized lava, a single pastel-pink scale, then the vulture feathers. Ignoring the odd smell from the Malva Blossoms, she ripped the petals off and dumped them into the pot, some falling to the floor without her noticing. The resulting liquid looked black in color, giving the dragoness an uneasy feeling. But her determination pushed her past that as she inhaled and breathed a strong flame, changing the color from black to a glistening pale red.

Yukari took a ladle and scooped out some of the potion. The smell was terrible and burned her nostrils, making her grimace. It would all be worth it once she got that burst of confidence, so she would grin and bear it. She ignored the growing uneasiness and took a deep breath.

“O-Okay…h-here goes nothing…”

The dragoness closed her eyes and gulped down the ladleful of potion. She immediately gagged at the hot, sour taste, but forced herself to choke it down. As she took a few breaths, something began happening to her. An unknown feeling began surfacing, coursing through her veins, causing a burning feeling to grow in her chest. Before she knew it, this bold feeling had its hold on her…and the first thing she did was grab the hot cauldron and chug the rest of the potion down.

Muffin watched it all in horror. The potion dribbled down her owner’s chin and out the corners of her mouth, but Yukari didn’t seem to care. The tapir jumped when Yukari carelessly tossed the cauldron to the floor. There was a change in her posture; her shoulders relaxed and her tail swayed in agitation. However, that paled in comparison to what the tapir saw as soon as Yukari turned around.

Something was very wrong.

Yukari promptly ignored the horrified expression on Muffin’s face. There was a dark smirk on her snout when she purred, “Time to go pay Lindar a visit.”

There was something resembling confidence in her voice…but that voice wasn’t Yukari’s. Muffin watched silently as Yukari exited the cottage and slammed the door shut. But, thankfully, there was a tapir door for her to escape through. Although she couldn’t fly, she knew some of the fairies would be willing to help. She just needed some way to get to the Dream Weavers home realm.

She needed to find Lateef _now_. 


	27. A Toxic Solution, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under the effects of the so-called confidence potion, Yukari seeks out the very dragon driving her actions. But her drastic change in personality may do more to scare the Artisan clockmaker than win his affections. Meanwhile, Lateef goes after his niece after realizing she's in more trouble than he realized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this part already written, so I'm going on and posting it! As you can see, Yukari's undergone a personality change thanks to the potion, and not in a good way. While it's jarring that she's acting very out-of-character, she'll get better. Lindar, however, is going to get the shock of his life! Next up will be the resolution to all this drama and a heartwarming ending!
> 
> Warning: Contains mentions of vomiting.

Drabble: A Toxic Solution, Part 2

Lateef was always the one to call on when it came to corralling Fools and fixing serious problems in the Dream Weavers realm. 

He awoke from his meditation to find Baruti requesting his help in Lofty Castle. To his lack of surprise, two Fools went and stole several books in the castle’s library and ruined others. The pinkish elder managed to recover all books except one after a day of searching. The missing book was a crucial one: an old potion tome gifted to them by the Magic Crafters after the death of Lateef’s brother and sister-in-law. That was more than enough to prompt the sagely blue dragon to aid in the search.

When he and Baruti came to Lofty Castle, they immediately saw a difference in one of their own. 

Yukari came from the direction of her cottage, but not with the gait she had now. Rather than her cautious gait, she swaggered and held her head up high. A confident, almost-arrogant smirk rested on her muzzle and her hips swayed in a manner of showing them off. The look in her eyes…something was off about it. Even from a distance, her eyes looked like she was a dragon possessed.

Lateef felt his worry grow. She looked to be heading towards the edge of the floating island. Stepping off the edge meant heading to the realms below. He knew she’d been making several trips to one realm in particular, but she always took the main portal in the Dream Weavers home. 

“Yukari,” Lateef called, “where are you going?”

Yukari stopped and rolled her eyes, but flashed that new confident smirk and put her hands on her hips. “To Stone Hill…where else? Are you suddenly not okay with me doing so?”

Dread grew inside Lateef and Baruti both. The latter asked, “Yukari, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Baruti…actually, I’ve never felt better,” the pastel-pink dragoness snorted. “And I’m finally going to go and let Lindar know how I feel and introduce him to the new Yukari!”

That was enough for Lateef to know there was an underlying cause to this behavior. Whatever the cause was, he wasn’t about to let her do something reckless. He calmly pleaded, “Yukari, maybe you should save that for another time. You could help us find a missing-“

But, to his shock, Yukari snapped at him. Her teeth bared and eyes fiery, she snapped, “Oh, there you go! Trying to be overprotective, as usual! It’s no wonder I never had a social life!”

The elder Dream Weavers stepped back. Lateef regained his composure and kept his calm; he knew that this wasn’t his niece talking. But a small voice in the back of his mind told him that perhaps this was something she bottled up for a long time. What would cause it to start coming out now?

“Yukari, what’s wrong with you? You’re not acting like yourself! Your eyes are literally bloodshot and you’re acting…well, you’re acting like a different dragon! Did you take something?”

“That’s none of your business! So what if I’m acting like a different dragon? For once, I’ve got something you never bothered to give me: a big, fat dose of confidence!” Yukari leaned closer and got in her uncle’s face, sky-blue eyes narrowed and potion-tainted breath hitting his nostrils. “I’m done with you babying me. I’m going out there and I’m going to get Lindar to like me…so step off!”

Lateef narrowed his eyes and felt his calm begin to waver. “Yukari, I didn’t raise you to speak to me like that-“

The pastel-pink dragoness shoved her uncle away with a snarl. “You wouldn’t have had to raise me if you tried harder to save my parents!”

Lateef’s resolve to help his niece crumbled at that. He stood slack-jawed and heartbroken and did nothing to stop his niece from flying to the Artisan realm. Whatever caused this sudden change in Yukari, it certainly helped her know where to hit him the hardest. He truly didn’t know if this was something said just to hurt him, or something she held in all these years. He just knew it opened old wounds and poured pounds of salt in them.

Baruti put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Lateef…that wasn’t Yukari. That’s not the Yukari we know.”

Lateef didn’t say anything, only hanging his head. His time for wallowing in guilt stopped at the sound of frantic chirps. Behind the two elder dragons was Muffin frantically waving her trunk. The tapir switched between waving and pointing her trunk towards the cottage.

“Muffin, what’s the matter?” Baruti asked.

Muffin bolted back towards Yukari’s cottage and the two dragons followed. They opened the door and watched the tapir point to several objects. They saw the cauldron laying carelessly on the floor. They spotted the small puddle of dribbled liquid. Finally, they saw what Muffin pointed at: scattered flower petals. However, Lateef and Baruti both spotted their original target, none-other than the potion tome. It was still open on the so-called Liquid Confidence recipe, but a glance-over by Lateef told him this wasn’t right.

“This is the book the Fools stole,” Baruti confirmed. “I haven’t picked it up in a long time, but I wouldn’t put it past them to alter to contents of it. Yukari must have gotten it from them…”

The sagely blue dragon felt a knot in his throat. He grabbed the scattered flower petals and stuffed them in his belt before exiting the cottage. “Baruti, go to Cosmos and have him verify that recipe.”

“Where are you going?”

In a firm voice, Lateef replied, “I’m going to get my niece back.”

* * *

Nighttime was already upon Stone Hill. While most of the resident dragons retired to bed, one dragon decided to forgo sleep for the second night in a row.

Lindar held back a yawn and tightened a few more screws on this in-progress clock. Despite Gildas warning him not to deprive himself of sleep again, he wasn’t about to stop until he finished this order. Todor always paid the Artisans handsomely for deer-themed work, after all. Thus, he spent the past two days working on this deer-themed clock. Neither the quiet of the workshop nor the light of the moon would convince him to sleep. Nothing would bring him out of focus.

However, he was unaware of what approached outside.

It wasn’t a sheep or Spyro breaking his curfew. Instead, Yukari stood in the middle of the grassy knoll that made Stone Hill’s courtyard. The hours spent flying here did little to dampen her determination. In that time, though, her physical health began to deteriorate. Her eyes stayed extremely bloodshot, sweat oozed out of her scales, and her body almost trembled from the raw emotion she felt. But it felt so euphoric that she paid no heed to the side effects. Her mind focused on one thing and one thing only: to finally win Lindar’s affections.

In a swift motion, she yanked her hairband out and let her curls cascade down her back. Her smirk grew bigger when she noticed the single light on in his shop. She made sure to seductively sway her hips and tail as she approached. The minute she approached the door, she roughly knocked on the door.

Lindar nearly jumped out of his scales at the knock. As his nerves calmed, an irritated sigh blew out of his lips. _Great, Gildas is about to give me another lecture. _But when he answered the door, it wasn’t Gildas.

The light-blue dragon looked in confusion at the pastel-pink dragoness leaning on his doorframe, giving him a coy smirk. “…Can I help you?”

“Hello, Lindar,” Yukari greeted, her tone sultry. “Do I look a lot better without a sheep head?”

Lindar quickly put two-and-two together. “Oh, you’re Lateef’s niece…Yukari, right? I almost didn’t recognize you. Did you do something with your hair?”

Yukari blinked, biting back the hint of irritation that he didn’t recognize her right then. She kept playing along, coming closer to him and causing him to take a step back. “Just something to go along with the new me. I’ve honestly been _dreaming _of this moment, Lindar…and I’m about to make that dream a reality.”

It was then Lindar noticed the look in her eyes and knew something was off. Her whole behavior was off, now that he thought about it. He could still remember their encounter at Lofty Castle; she was timid and took dragons by surprise without meaning to. But he also knew the look in her eyes was gentle and pure. That wasn’t what was in her bloodshot eyes now. The best he could describe it was a volcano about to erupt. There was an odd smell on her breath that wasn’t ale and her scales literally shined with sweat. Lindar could feel his own scales standing on end at the sight of her.

“Yukari…are you all right? Maybe I should take you to the doctor-“

“I’m perfectly _fine_,” Yukari hastily replied, a growl in her voice. “I’m better knowing I’ve finally got the guts to talk to you. You don’t have to worry about that spineless coward that was the old me!”

Lindar narrowed his eyes, muttering, “Honestly, I like the old you better.”

If looks could kill, Yukari’s would have set him ablaze. “What did you just say to me?”

Yukari, in a burst of anger, grabbed Lindar’s wrist. The clockmaker wrenched his hand out of her grip and backed away in shock. “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting crazy!”

“No, you’re crazy! I spent long enough leaving gifts at your door and protecting your dreams,” Yukari spat venomously, stepping dangerously close to Lindar. “I made a potion just to talk to you! Now you’re telling me you liked me better as some stuttering little doormat!? What was so great about that!?”

Something clicked in Lindar’s mind. “…A potion?”

The dragoness attempted to lunge for Lindar in her disoriented state, but he dodged and flew out of his shop. With a snarl, Yukari gave chase to the Artisan clockmaker. Lindar hoped that if he flew around enough, she would tire out, but his sleep-deprived state quickly slowed him down. The commotion outside attracted the attention of Gildas and brought him out of his home. He attempted to fly after the two when a shadow from above went in his stead. 

Lindar landed on the ground and attempted to make a break for the tunnels. If he could get to the ocean and hide in the small cave, he’d buy some time. Yukari quickly caught up and grabbed him by the tail. He turned and saw the look on her face went further into madness. There was a glow in the back of her throat and he tried to wrench his tail free. 

In the blink of an eye, the glow in her throat died down and her eyes widened. Lindar saw Lateef behind her as her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she fell forward. The leader of the Dream Weavers lowered his hand and sadly cast his eyes down at his niece. He quickly lifted his eyes up and gave an apologetic look to Lindar.

“I’m so sorry, Lindar. Please…please help me get her to Dark Hollow.”

By now, the other Stone Hill dragons were roused from slumber and checking out the scene. Lindar ignored their presence and helped Lateef get Yukari under the arms. The mention of a potion still rang through his mind, but the clockmaker still tried to process just what happened and why it happened. The only thing clear right now was that he had a lot of questions for this strange Dream Weaver dragoness. Until then, the rest would be left to Cheyloe.

* * *

_“She ingested HOW MANY petals!?”_

The dragons of Stone Hill followed Lindar and Lateef to Dark Hollow. The clockmaker sat in the foyer with Gavin, sipping on tea to calm his nerves, when they heard Cheyloe’s surprised shout. They could also make out Lateef’s pleas, insisting that it wasn’t Yukari’s fault; the potion made her act crazy. They had no idea what potion until a winded Baruti arrived.

They made out more of their conversation; something about Fools and a doctored potion tome. They were sure Cheyloe or Lateef would share the full details later. For now, the Stone Hill dragons sat back and observed Lindar calming his nerves.

“…Are you feeling all right, Lindar?” Gavin asked.

Lindar sighed and ran his claws through his hair. “I really don’t know, Gavin. I don’t get why she would drink some potion and come after me like some maniac. I get she probably wasn’t in her right mind, but…couldn’t she have just come and talk to me face-to-face?”

Gildas piped up after observing a few of Cheyloe’s display potions. There was a crestfallen look on his face when he replied, “Lindar…well, Nestor told me of this, and I’m not surprised you don’t know. Yukari lost her parents at a young age. They tried to go to the forbidden place…and encountered _her_.”

Lindar’s eyes widened. “You mean _that _place and the witch you always told us about?”

“Yes…and she witnessed them die,” the painter confessed. “According to Lateef, she was very outgoing before this happened. After they died, he raised her, but that and other events made her terrified of interacting with non-Dream Weavers. You did say you met her when giving Lateef a clock, correct?”

“Well, yeah. What does that have to do with this?”

Gildas didn’t know if Lindar didn’t know what it meant or if the night’s events left his head a mess, too. But he wouldn’t fault him for it. “It certainly doesn’t justify her going to those measures…but sometimes you do insane things when you get hit by Cupid’s arrow.”

Lindar pretended not to hear that bit. 

Inside the clinic, Cheyloe knew she had her work cut out for her. Lateef brought Yukari in this late, and the dragoness looked like her body was in meltdown mode. Then Baruti barged in and started giving further info; some Fools messing with a potion tome and making a Liquid Aggression recipe look like a Liquid Confidence recipe. But what alarmed her was the amount of Malva Blossom petals put in the mixture, minus the ones that fell out. Why would Yukari do this to herself?

“I’d better act quick if I can save her from Malva Blossom poisoning,” Cheyloe huffed tensely.

“Forgive me, but what are Malva Blossoms?” Lateef asked.

The light-red dragoness began mixing together a concoction while Yukari remained unconscious, explaining, “You may hear of the Beast Makers calling it ‘Temper Weed’. It’s a flower that heightens aggression in high doses, but Yukari overdosed on them. And from the sound of it, what Yukari thought was a confidence potion was a potion to heighten aggression…and give her a false sense of confidence.” She paused and looked Lateef in the eyes, clarifying, “Lateef, if she’d consumed all those petals, it would’ve killed her.”

Lateef visibly paled and looked at his niece. Cheyloe finished mixing a strange liquid and muttered, “Yukari’s not going to like this.”

Lifting Yukari’s head up, the Artisan doctor forced her mouth open and made her drink some of the contents. Ten seconds later, Yukari shot up and held her hand over her muzzle. Cheyloe handed her a bucket just as she leaned over and retched. Fortunately, it helped to get what was left of the potion out of her stomach. Cheyloe went on to mix a blackish goop into a large cup and wait for Yukari to finish emptying her stomach. 

The light-red dragoness began giving the goop to Yukari in small gulps, prompting Lateef to ask, “What is that?”

“It’s a charcoal shake,” Cheyloe replied, the tenseness in her voice gone. “It’ll absorb the toxins out of her body and she’ll start getting back to normal.”

How long that would take was uncertain. Lateef already figured it would be a long night. Regret filled him; he should’ve never let it get this far. If he had done a better job raising her, she wouldn’t have gone to extreme measures. She wouldn’t have let her crush push her this far. He would have a lot of making up to do to correct his shortcomings. For now, the most he could do was watch over his niece as she fell asleep.

The sagely blue dragon took Yukari’s hand and caressed her knuckles. “Yukari…forgive your foolish old uncle.”


	28. A Toxic Solution, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Yukari's potion-induced fury, the Dream Weaver dragoness confides in an unlikely source. Unbeknownst to them, Lindar eavesdrops and decides to hear her out. The clock maker decides it's time to make a deal with Yukari to put all the water under the bridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third and final part of the potion incident is here! Despite what most would think, Lindar wouldn't be the type to hold onto a grudge (unlike Gnasty Gnorc). I think after hearing what motivated Yukari, he wouldn't be angry with her. And as for Yukari, she learns better from having someone show her the ropes instead of relying on self-help books and potions. I won't give too much away, but there is a happy ending!
> 
> Next up will be a few of my old drabbles, a flashback drabble involving Tomas and Cadenza (thanks to a request for more Cadenza), and we'll finally be getting into some drabbles happening during the first game. Then will be a special drabble where a certain young Beast Maker starts bunking with the Artisans.

Drabble: A Toxic Solution, Part 3

The sound of snoring was the only noise in Cheyloe’s clinic. Gildas and Gavin already returned home to get some shut-eye. Lindar drifted in-and-out of sleep after a few cups of caffeinated tea. Cheyloe lay over her desk, the source of the snores in the main room. For all they knew, Yukari and Lateef were both asleep in the exam room.

There was one dragon, however, that lingered. And he felt it was time to give a Dream Weaver a talk.

Astor pushed himself from his seat and crept to the exam room. Indeed, Lateef fell asleep in one of the spare chairs. Yukari, however, was wide-awake and sitting up in the cot. She looked fatigued, but her eyes were no longer bloodshot. The angry expression described to him wasn’t there; just the expression of a scared dragoness. Both of them locked eyes and said nothing.

Most of his fellow dragons thought Astor was a typical, senile old fart. His mind remained sharp for his age and he just liked making them think he wasn’t. In all his years, he knew the heart pushed dragons towards desperate measures. He also knew Lateef needed a good earful for babying his niece too much, not to mention not pushing her to get out of the Dream Weavers realm. That would be for another time. Yukari needed a little talk first.

“You know, you’re not the first dragon to make one of those blossom potions,” the old Artisan lectured in a weary tone, “and you’re not the first to believe it’d grant you confidence. But I think you would’ve been better off getting liquid confidence from the Magic Crafters.”

_‘A tapir told me the same thing…’_

“…and I know dragons do crazy things when they’re in love.”

Yukari paled. She barely knew Astor, yet he read her like an open book. She was hesitant in confiding anything to him. He wasn’t Lateef, but Lateef never had a negative thing to say about him or the other elderly dragons. This couldn’t be any different from talking to Baruti or Azizi or Bakari…maybe Astor would be okay.

Unbeknownst to them, Lindar finally processed what time it was and decided it was time to fly back to Stone Hill. First, however, he needed to find a bathroom after all those cups of tea. He passed by the closed exam room when he picked up voices. One of them was feminine; a lot gentler and timid compared to her voice last night.

“I-I used to be really outgoing when I was little. B-But after Mama and Papa died…t-the birthday party…I-I was too afraid of talking to dragons t-that weren’t Dream Weavers,” Yukari confessed shamefully, wringing her hands in her lap. “I-I was even t-too scared of leaving the D-Dream Weavers realm. A-And then…I-I met Lindar w-when he delivered a clock to Uncle Lateef.”

Her shoulders began shaking. Yukari continued, “I-I don’t know what it is about him…b-but I can’t get him out of my head. I-I’ve felt things I’ve never felt before! I…I-I just wanted to talk to him like a normal dragon. B-B-But I c-couldn’t do it on my own…s-so I made that potion. And now…”

The dragoness finally lowered her head and sobbed, “N-Now he th-thinks I’m a c-crazy f-freak…”

Lindar, his head and hand pressed to the door, strongly disagreed. True, he thought she was just another strange Dream Weaver; one too eager to get close and get on his nerves. Overhearing her motivation made him feel his heart was in his throat. Did he think she was quite peculiar? Yes. A bit socially-awkward? Definitely. A crazy freak? Absolutely not.

Back in the room, Astor offered the Dream Weaver dragoness a handkerchief and gently patted her back. As caught up as she was on his fellow Artisan, she still had a lot to learn about him. “Lindar’s a dragon who tends to speak his mind a little too much. If he truly thought so badly of you, don’t you think he would’ve said that by now? If anything, I’d say he’s worried like the rest of us.”

Yukari paused and mulled over Astor’s words. From all she observed, Lindar did have a loose tongue. The most he said was that she _acted _crazy, and there was a difference between acting crazy and being crazy. Yet she wasn’t convinced. The incident would most likely be etched in the Artisan’s brain for all eternity and he would avoid her at all costs. That’s what she told herself, at least. “W-What…w-what if he d-doesn’t want to s-speak to me?”

“Then your insecurities are tricking you,” Astor scolded. Now the elderly dragon decided to let her in on a secret. “If it helps, Lindar has plenty of his own insecurities…he’s just not that willing to voice them. The best thing you can do it talk to him with a clear head. I think he’ll be willing to listen.”

Lindar puffed his cheeks out. Astor said he had a loose tongue, yet he unveiled he had insecurities. He did agree with the old dragon on one thing: he was willing to hear the dragoness out. Despite what the other Artisans said, he wasn’t an unforgiving dragon. Right then wasn’t the best time to talk with her. They both needed some sleep…and he still needed to find a bathroom.

* * *

The morning sun filtered through the windows of Lindar’s room. And boy, did he feel like garbage. The light-blue clockmaker groaned and shoved his pillow over his head. What little sleep he got was eclipsed by hours of tossing and turning. Clocks weren’t going to build themselves. He just needed a cup of Gavin’s brew and he would be right as rain.

Then he remembered he needed to go by Dark Hollow first.

His blonde hair was in a mess, and this was a rare morning where he didn’t feel like fixing it. To avoid pointed fingers and laughs, he quietly snuck out of his home and walked through the grassy fields that made Stone Hill. Visit the clinic, fix his hair, then get coffee; had it all sorted in his head. As he walked through one of the many herds of sheep, he heard panicked voices.

“I thought she went home with Lateef,” Gavin’s voice discussed.

“No…we all thought she went ahead of Lateef,” Gildas clarified. “As soon as Cheyloe discharged her, she was gone.”

Uh-oh…now she was missing? What was he to do now? He would have to go all the way to the Dream Weavers realm and-

Wait…something told him not to look too far. If what he theorized proved true, she would have learned a lot about Stone Hill. What was the best place in Stone Hill to go to be alone?

Lindar immediately went for the secluded beach near the castle. The residents and visiting dragons looked to the beach when they wanted to be alone with their thoughts. He went there more than once, and he caught Spyro there a few times after a scolding from Nestor. He just hoped he was right. 

As soon as he touched down on the sand, his gut feeling paid off. He saw Yukari sitting on the sand near the small cave. She hugged her knees to her chest and wrapped her wings around her shoulders, the rolling waves barely touching her talons. She paid no heed to his presence and simply stared at the ocean. Lindar decided to break the ice by clearing his throat.

As soon as the dragoness jumped, Lindar held his hands up and greeted, “Relax, it’s okay. It’s me, Lindar.”

This was the first time she saw Lindar’s hair in a shaggy mess. Still, dark pink crept over her cheeks and she fought not to giggle. It hit her that her own hair was in disarray and she scrambled to find her hairband. Then she remembered: she tossed it away during her, ah, potion high. It didn’t seem the Artisan dragon minded her loose hair.

Lindar sat down in the sand next to her, but there was a long moment of silence. Neither one knew what to say to get things moving. Lindar didn’t want to give away that he overheard Yukari and Astor’s conversation. Yukari didn’t want to risk Lindar shutting her out. This was going nowhere. Suddenly, it was the dragoness who spoke first.

“U-Um…I…I-I’m really, _really _sorry about what I did,” Yukari murmured. “T-That was the s-stupidest thing I’ve ever done…”

The light-blue clockmaker glanced at her and flashed a lopsided smile. “I’ve done some pretty stupid stuff myself. It’s no big deal.”

Yukari shook her head in disagreement, insisting, “N-No…i-it is a big deal. I-I could’ve hurt you! I-I should’ve gone to the Magic Crafters.” Again, she shook her head, disagreeing with herself. “N-No, I should’ve just s-stuck to the books…”

Books? Self-help books, maybe? Lindar read those books before. Reading the material was one thing, but applying the material didn’t work with everybody. Books could only do so much. Potions were the easy way out. In his lifetime, the best way he learned was by hearing it from another dragon’s mouth. It was clear that books and potions weren’t going to give the dragoness a boost of confidence. It was also obvious from hearing Lateef’s rambling that he wouldn’t push her as much. Maybe…

“I must be pretty special for you to go through all that trouble.”

Yukari kept her widened crystal-blue eyes glued to him. She wasn’t about to say that she did this over a silly crush. That was just too up-front. She settled on replying with, “U-Uh…r-right. I-I mean, yes. I-I mean-“

Lindar couldn’t help but chuckle, prompting Yukari to puff her cheeks out and look away. After all that shyness, she was suddenly pouting. To think an Artisan dragon would bring such feelings out of her. Yet it still blew her mind that he wasn’t angry. That he didn’t treat her like she was…weird. He treated her like she was a normal dragon.

Clearing her throat, Yukari asked, “S-So you’re not angry? I-I don’t want you to think-“

“I’m not angry,” Lindar clarified, “and, for the record, I don’t think you’re a crazy freak.”

Well, so much for not letting her know he eavesdropped. But it was something she needed to hear. He saw her looking at him with glistening eyes and knew a crucial step was made. Still, there were a few other things he needed to get off his chest. He stated, “Tell you what…if we’re going to put all this water under the bridge, I think it’s best we get to know each-other first.”

Yukari didn’t know if she was dreaming. Was Lindar making the offer she thought he was? She inquired, “U-Um…w-what do you suggest we do? I-I can clean up your shop to make up for it…”

“Actually…I’m thinking something else. So I want to make a deal with you.” Lindar leaned closer and looked the pastel-pink dragoness in the eyes as he offered, “I can offer to help you build up a little confidence so you don’t rely on potions again…but this is a one-time offer. I normally don’t do this for other dragons.”

Yukari gulped, “L-Like…c-confidence lessons? W-What’s the catch?”

“The catch is…we start over,” Lindar replied matter-of-factly.

The other Artisans would inquire as to why Lindar was offering this kind of help to a dragoness he barely knew. Lindar asked himself that for a split-second. Was his gut feeling guiding him again? Was it pity? Or maybe it was because he felt she needed a friend that wasn’t another Dream Weaver. A friend who wouldn’t be afraid to push her out of her comfort zone. And he could volunteer to be that friend, even if said friendship had to start from the ground up. He wanted to help her however he could.

After another quiet moment, Yukari felt a shy smile form on her lips. She gave a nod and agreed, “O-Okay…I-I accept your deal.”

Lindar found himself smiling as well. “And the other Artisans say I’m insensitive. Now then…” He offered his hand to her, waiting for her to take it. “Let’s start over…I’m Lindar of the Artisans.”

There was much hesitation as she stared at his hand. She couldn’t refuse and end up rescinding the deal. So many thoughts ran through her head, but she mustered up the courage needed and took hold. Dark pink flooded her cheeks once again…and she swore she saw dark blue appearing on his cheeks. In spite of her desire to squeal at the warm touch of his hand, she held it in. Baby steps, after all. 

“…I’m Yukari of the Dream Weavers.”


	29. Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nestor always knew he wasn't Spyro's biological father. That doesn't prevent him from treating the young dragon like his son. No matter how old Spyro is, he's always there for him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a request for Father's Day involving Spyro and Nestor. I always believed that out of all the Artisan dragons, Spyro always saw Nestor as his father figure, even seeing him as his actual father. Even knowing he and Nestor aren't biologically related doesn't change his views. After all, family isn't measured by blood alone. I hope you all enjoy this little piece!

Drabble: Father

Nestor found himself running like mad to Spyro’s room.

There was a severe thunderstorm hitting the Artisan home tonight. He had long since put the three-year-old to bed before closing the castle up from the ensuing rain. Argus, Delbin, and Tomas headed for bed before him, leaving the Artisan leader to enter night owl mode and work on any last-minute projects. He was in the middle of varnishing a birdhouse when he heard Spyro’s cries. All rationale left him and he dashed to his rescue.

To his surprise, Delbin stood outside Spyro’s door. As he put his hand to the knob, he called, “Spyro, are you okay? I’m coming in-“

“No,” Spyro whimpered from behind the door, “I-I want Daddy!”

The auburn dragon knew right away who Spyro meant. He immediately turned from the door and found Nestor standing by. The green dragon seemed to have heard the little one; a dark-green blush flooded his cheeks. In spite of the situation, Delbin couldn’t help but grin at his superior.

“You know the drill,” Delbin teased.

Narrowing his eyes, Nestor grumbled, “Thank you, Delbin.”

Still, Nestor wasted no time in opening the door. On the tiny bed near the wall, he saw a shivering lump underneath the covers. Little Sparx tried and failed to get the fledgling to come out of his hiding place. The next boom of thunder had even Nestor jumping out of his scales. Spyro’s whimpers grew louder as a result, and there was only one dragon who could comfort him.

“Spyro,” Nestor began, kneeling down and poking the lump under the covers, “it’s okay. I’m right here.”

A tiny purple head adorned with fiery-yellow frills slowly poked out from the blankets. Spyro stared up at Nestor with bleary violet eyes, small sniffles coming from his nostrils. He looked up at the green dragon and mumbled, “…D-Daddy…”

Hearing Spyro call him that both warmed Nestor’s heart and hurt it. He felt a sense of paternal pride that the toddler called him that…but it pained him knowing he wasn’t Spyro’s father. Not biologically, anyway. To this day, he had no idea who Spyro’s parents were. For all he knew, Spyro was indeed one of the eggs resulting from combined dragon and fairy magic. Yet the moment the only Artisan hatchling burst out of his egg, he put the role of father onto him.

He couldn’t bear to correct him while he was still this young.

Nestor scooped Spyro out from under the blankets and rocked him. His stoic, leader exterior faded, replaced with that of a loving father comforting his frightened child. Slowly, Spyro calmed down, burying his snout into Nestor’s vest. The thunderstorm still raged on outside, but it didn’t seem so scary with the Artisan leader around. In Spyro’s eyes, Nestor was stronger than any storm. 

“The storm won’t hurt you, little one. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

After several minutes, he could sense the toddler finally falling back to sleep. Nestor did his best to carefully put Spyro back under the covers. He shot his eyes towards Sparx and gave a nod. The young dragonfly immediately settled on Spyro’s pillow and illuminated the room. Nestor held in a sigh of relief; he didn’t dare want to wake Spyro. After a moment of watching the toddler sleep, Nestor quietly leaned down and kissed the toddler on the forehead. 

It was time for a change of plans. The projects could hold off for another night.

Sparx watched the green dragon quickly disappear out of the room. Minutes later, he saw why as Nestor appeared with a large quilt and pillow. He watched him plant himself on the floor and drape the quilt over himself. Soon, he could hear faint snores coming out of the larger dragon, prompting a smile on the dragonfly’s face. 

Some time in the middle of the night, Spyro crawled out of bed and tucked himself under Nestor’s arm. He didn’t see the small smile on the larger dragon’s face as he slept.

000000000000

“I still can’t believe you defeated Gnasty Gnorc on your own…”

Spyro flashed a proud grin, boasting, “Hey, for all his talk, he wouldn’t stop running from me.”

In truth, Nestor nearly worried himself into a heart attack. He hoped the most Spyro would do was free the dragons from their crystal prisons. He never guessed Spyro was serious when he confronted Gnasty Gnorc on his own. It was why he hastily asked Tomas and Delbin to go and confront the beast themselves; the other realms seemed to follow his lead. Unfortunately, they wound up crystallized again…and Spyro came to their rescue again.

Nestor underestimated the fledgling…but that wouldn’t keep him from worrying.

“You okay, Nestor?”

The green dragon put his hand to his forehead and sighed. He could lecture Spyro for giving him a scare. Or he could complain about having more gray scales popping up. Instead, he confessed, “I was so afraid we’d never see you again. I wish I’d been there to help you…”

Spyro knew right then his mentor no longer had the mentor look. Instead, he looked like a father who’d been up for several nights waiting for his child to come home. True, he figured out some time ago that Nestor wasn’t his biological father…but he still saw him as the father he always wanted. Even if he did lecture him more times than he could count. In spite of his behavior, he appreciated everything Nestor did for him.

“Weren’t you the one always saying big things come in small packages?” Spyro asked playfully.

Nestor found himself smiling and chuckling, “Actually, Oswin originally said that…but I may have repeated it once or twice.”

Spyro laughed from seeing the smile on Nestor’s face. It always paid off to get a smile on the normally-stoic dragon’s face. He hated to have worried his fellow Artisans over his pursuit of Gnasty Gnorc. But they wouldn’t have to deal with that green bag of hot air anymore. If anything, having a fledgling defeat him made the Gnorc afraid of the dragons now.

As the purple fledgling went to leave, he suddenly stopped and turned back to Nestor. Neither one said a word or did anything until Spyro leaned his head on the larger dragon’s arm. He couldn’t get his legs to work on giving him a hug, but that would come later. This would count, too.

“…Thanks for worrying over me…Dad.”

Nestor was stunned. Spyro hadn’t called him that in years. His eyes began to sting and he fought to hold it in. The fledgling knew how to butter him up, yet this genuinely touched upon his heart. He would let Spyro giving him this title again slide just this once. One time wouldn’t hurt.

“You’re always worth it, Spyro.”


	30. Chilled to the Bone (Spyro and Todor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a rare visit to the Peace Keepers Realm, Spyro tries to prove how tough he is in Ice Cavern. Todor sees right through it and gives the young one a lecture on acting tough. Spyro learns of Todor's hidden respect for the Artisans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another old, short drabble of mine between Spyro and one of my favorite Peace Keepers, Todor! I figure Todor would be one of the Peace Keepers who's always happy to have Spyro visit and is protective over him! I've actually got another drabble between Todor and Titan, and I think Todor has a great amount of respect for the Artisans compared to the rest of his guild. More will be explained once that drabble comes along! 
> 
> Until then, enjoy this and some new content coming along featuring some of my other dragonesses!

Drabble: Chilled to the Bone

Spyro’s chattering teeth could be heard from the farthest part of the cavern.

It wasn’t a surprise from Spyro’s reaction. He was so used to the warmth and sun of the Artisan realm. The Artisan realm also received very little, if any, snow in the wintertime. So spending a day with the Peace Keepers and going into the Ice Caverns wasn’t something he was used to yet. He had a bravado that the cold didn’t bother him, however.

Todor knew that was a load of crock.

He wanted to scold Spyro for not dressing warmly. However, he knew Spyro just wanted to prove to the Peace Keepers that he was as tough as them. Maybe he knew that certain dragons looked down on the Artisans as being too ‘soft’. He really wished some of the adults just kept their mouths shut around kids. He respected the Artisans, even if they weren’t the best fighters. And he let it be known that he’d look after Spyro until his last breath.

Spyro huddled his wings around his body and suppressed any shivers. Todor finally had enough. The slender Peace Keeper proceeded to shed his fur-trimmed jacket and delicately place it on the young dragon’s shoulders. Spyro looked astonished and stared up at him.

Todor only smiled and stated, “Take my jacket. It’s cold outside.”

The purple dragon hesitated, but tried to offer the jacket back, insisting, “N-No, you need it more, Todor. I’m tough, I can handle it!”

But Todor shook his head and put his hand on Spyro’s shoulder, keeping the jacket where it was. He bluntly pointed out, “Don’t try to act tough, Spyro. I could hear your teeth chattering a mile away. Freezing to death isn’t worth proving how strong you are.”

“But now you’re gonna freeze to death,” Spyro panicked. “You’re skinnier than Marco and you live in the Ice Cavern!”

Todor chuckled softly and gave Spyro a ‘did you really say that’ look. Tapping his bow on the icy floor, he went on to explain, “True, but I still prefer you use it. I do use it because I’ve got a slimmer body, but living in the Ice Cavern more-or-less trains your body to withstand cold temperatures. You have to so your enemies don’t use your environment against you.”

Hearing the explanation, Spyro left the jacket hanging over his shoulders and mumbled, “Thanks…”

None of the dragons liked seeing Spyro downtrodden. Even old codgers like Cosmos and Bruno hated seeing him like this. Todor knew that Spyro didn’t like showing weakness at such a young age. He didn’t know what kind of pressures Nestor put on his shoulders, but his Artisan heritage shouldn’t be a source of shame.

“Spyro…being cold doesn’t make you weak or unworthy in our eyes. You’re still a kid, after all,” Todor assured, kneeling down to look the young dragon in the eye. “I know you’ve probably heard negative things about the Artisans when you shouldn’t have. The Artisans desiring peace over conflict doesn’t make them soft or placid. I’d say they’d put up a fight if it came down to it.”

Spyro swallowed a lump in his throat and confessed, “Yeah…I kind of heard other dragons say the Artisans were wimpy. I just wanted to show I wasn’t wimpy and that all the Artisans weren’t wimpy, either.”

“Well, if they were wimpy, then Nestor wouldn’t be a carpenter, right?”

That made Spyro smile and reply, “No…he needs those muscles to lift all that wood and rock!”

Todor suddenly hoisted the young dragon onto his back, shielding him with his feathered wings. He didn’t care to carry him the rest of the way; he didn’t need frostbite. He would lug him the rest of the way until they reached his home and a warm pot of soup. At least long enough until Titan came to fetch him. 

“Spyro, sometimes strength isn’t measured by your muscles or weapons on your person,” Todor stated firmly. “Sometimes strength comes from wisdom and knowing when to fight.”

“So…sometimes it’s better to use brain than brawn?”

“If that’s how you see it, yes,” Todor concluded.

As they made their way across the icy floors and frozen platforms, Todor paused and added, “Oh…and I should tell Nestor to start sending a jacket with you until you get older.”


	31. A Quick Shot (Alvar and Cheyloe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Flu season has hit and the Artisans' doctor is overworked on administering vaccines. But she has enough time and energy to mess with the one Artisan terrified of needles. Needless to say, Alvar isn't amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another old one of mine and one of my favorites! Now, we got some interaction between Cheyloe and Spyro, the former giving the purple dragon a lesson in medicine. I see her as the one concocting vaccines to some ailments and giving the Magic Crafters and Beast Makers a break when flu season hits. She would also find every way she could to mess with some of her fellow Artisans, Alvar especially. She would especially mess with him as revenge on Gavin's behalf (from the 'pudding incident'). 
> 
> I'll have some more of my classic drabbles up before I post a few original ones, some will be flashback drabbles and others leading up to during the first game!

Drabble: A Quick Shot 

This was the worst time of year for Dragon Flu.

Cheyloe stifled a yawn and went to check on her vaccine supply. Her fellow Artisans and even the dragons of the other realms came in droves to get vaccinated. Some already came down with the bug and had to wait, hoping the supply remained. The elderly dragons were placed at the top of the list for vaccinations due to their weaker immune systems. Half of the entire dragon population had their shot, herself included. Now she just waited for the others to come walking in.

She glanced at a sketched chart and looked to see who was due-in today. Bubba came in at the first of the week. Lindar followed the next day. Spyro got his child-sized dosage next. Lucas followed after him. She finally found today and blinked. Her lips suddenly curled into a mischievous smirk.

Alvar was scheduled for today.

The door of her in-home clinic opened and in came the hot-tempered chef himself. He was one of the few dragons who thought her methods were too ‘unorthodox’. He was just the only one vocal about his disapproval of her running her clinic out of her home. Last she checked, Nestor and Alban didn’t disapprove. She never could forget Alvar’s criticisms over her medical methods or hand-sketched anatomy charts. Or how ‘unprofessional’ her sleeveless lab coat and choker were for a doctor.

She also couldn’t forget the times he chased her out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon. Or all the times Gavin confided in her over him. Or the ‘pudding incident’.

Alvar leaned over her desk and muttered, “Well? Are there any vaccines left? I can’t have anything spreading through my kitchen!”

Cheyloe narrowed her eyes and flashed the older Artisan a suspiciously-innocent smile, answering, “I have enough, Alvar. Just follow me.”

She took him to the back room where she did her examinations. Hand-sketched anatomy charts stuck to the wall and a wood-and-glass cabinet containing different medicines sat idly. She sat Alvar down in a chair and began donning a dragon-sized pair of gloves. Alvar just crossed his arms and gave her a scrutinizing gaze. He could literally smell coffee permeating the air from all-nighters. Why weren’t the Magic Crafters giving these shots instead of their resident punk quack?

As he went to voice a complaint over her tidiness, Alvar froze when he saw it. He saw her ready the flu shot in a large needle. Cheyloe immediately took notice in his demeanor and tried to hide another smirk.

For all his loud talk and temper, he was a big baby around needles.

She held the needle up and removed any bubbles in the vaccine, sweetly assuring, “This is going to hurt.”

That made cold sweat run down Alvar’s forehead. His eyes remained on the needle and he stuttered, “I-Is the needle…s-supposed to be that large?”

“Well, I need a pretty big needle to get through a dragon’s scales,” the dragoness explained. “The only smaller needles I have are what I use for Spyro.”

Alvar recoiled when she rubbed his arm with alcohol. He grimaced and asked, “M-May I reschedule?”

“Sorry, Alvar, the next several days are full, and the vaccines might expire by then,” Cheyloe answered with fake innocence. “Want me to fetch Gavin and have him hold you down-I mean, hold your hand?”

Alvar suddenly realized what this was all about. This wasn’t just a flu shot; it was revenge on him for what was done to herself and Gavin. Or perhaps the other dragons talked her into scaring him over his temper! This was a great conspiracy against him! They wanted to teach him a lesson! He wouldn’t allow them to do such a thing to him!

But he saw the needle once again and gasped in fear. Why did he have to be afraid of needles? Cheyloe drew closer with it and he squeezed his eyes shut. His muscles tensed up, but the dragoness pressed something in his arm and made it relax. He yelped the moment the needle went through his scales.

After just a second, Cheyloe finished with the shot and beamed, “You’re all done, Alvar!”

Alvar looked shocked. He wordlessly watched her put a bandage on his arm and put a check mark by his name. Only after she put the needle and pencil away did he ask, “What…were you or weren’t you trying to frighten me? Weren’t you looking like you wanted to torture me!?”

Cheyloe looked at him with an unfamiliar seriousness and stated, “I don’t agree with your temper, and Gavin’s told me everything about your temper…but I took an oath to never do harm. Especially after what happened to Nestor…and I know you still doubt me over that.”

Alvar frowned and glanced away. He crossed his arms and grumbled, “True…I haven’t forgotten you more-or-less poisoned Nestor. But I suppose if you’d known of his allergies, you wouldn’t have spiked his food. That was my concern when he announced you were becoming a doctor…”

A pause, then Alvar reassured, “I now know that you’re a very competent doctor…even if your way of doing things doesn’t go by the book.”

Cheyloe looked surprised before genuinely smiling. Perhaps Alvar let his pride down more than she believed. At least she didn’t have to make Gavin restrain him to give him the shot. She cheekily replied, “That’s a great compliment coming from you, Alvar! You’re not such a hot-tempered sourpuss after all!”

The hot-tempered chef scowled, getting up and growling, “A hot-tempered sourpuss? Are you trying to goad me into yelling?”

“Your visit’s not over yet and you look a little pale,” Cheyloe grinned. “Would you like me to get out the rectal thermometer?”

Alvar indeed paled at that. “You are truly a mad doctor…” 


	32. A Not-So-Quiet Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus sits down to dinner with one of the last dragons he'd ever want to dine with. But he tolerates the presence of the Magic Crafters' leader due to the love he has for his mate. Cosmos doesn't make this dinner easy for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another one I wrote long ago. I suggest reading the drabbles I've already got written about Magnus and Anna first before reading this one (if you haven't already). Anyway, I figure that Magnus would do his best to show he didn't hold a grudge against the Magic Crafters, with his wife being a Magic Crafter, by inviting one to dinner. Of all the ones Anna would suggest, it would be none-other than Cosmos. Even with his views on the Magic Crafters softening, Magnus doesn't see eye-to-eye with him. Still, he's willing to do it for the sake of his mate.
> 
> I'll have a few more old drabbles, with a new one here and there, then I'll start getting into the ones during the first game!

Drabble: A Not-So-Quiet Dinner

Magnus didn’t spend hours of listening to etiquette audiotapes to have Cosmos just staring holes in his scales.

He ended up throwing said tapes away and just let Anna teach him the proper placing of silverware; everything else was common sense. He normally didn’t care about the proper placement and knew silverware was silverware. However, since he was sitting down to eat with the last dragon he wanted to associate with, he wanted to make a good ‘haven’t punched him yet’ impression.

Cosmos, on the other hand, stared at Magnus before looking down at his roasted vulture and potatoes and carrots. The charred meat wasn’t what he dined on in the Magic Crafters realm. They didn’t even have aged wine here. He knew this was Anna’s attempt to show the positives of Peace Keeper dining. He wasn’t surprised they didn’t offer anything like _coq au vin_; they weren’t that desperate to ‘kiss up’ to him.

Magnus suppressed a rumble in his throat when he politely asked, “Are you enjoying your meal, Cosmos?”

The leader of the Magic Crafters curtly replied, “I’ve certainly had cleaner-looking.”

The rotund Peace Keeper scowled and grumbled, “Well, forgive me that I don’t have any fancy-shmancy cuisine for you, oh great Cosmos.”

“Typical. You sit me down for dinner and you can’t control that uncouth tongue of yours,” Cosmos snipped.

Magnus leaned over and placed a challenging elbow on the table, exemplifying his defiance, and snorted, “Well, would you rather have a meal with Trondo?”

Okay, he had to admit Magnus had a point. He’d rather sit down with him or Titan for a tolerable meal than with that dreadlocked barbarian or other dragons like the bomb-wielding loon. Still, Cosmos wasn’t keen on sitting down with this loud, rotund, sharp-tongued dragon. Why did he agree? Oh, right…Anna begged him to. Give Magnus a chance, she said. He’s very wonderful and I love him, she said. 

He adored his student, but all that made him want to vomit.

Once again, Magnus snorted and he dared to point out, “At least I know where Anna’s old snobby attitude came from. It was either you or her stuck-up sister.”

Cosmos looked at him like he sucked on a bag of lemons. “I beg your pardon? I don’t spend my days picking fights or eating like a slob. And if someone does something wrong, I don’t inject curse words or a blasphemous tone in my speech!”

“By that, you mean act passive-aggressive and all holier than thou?”

Cosmos was about ready to chuck his glass of cactus water at the Peace Keeper dragon. What gave him the right to talk down to him, and yet he accused him of the same thing? What was Anna thinking in choosing this miscreant as a potential mate? Was she still in that ‘bad boy’ phase? Jarvis was polite and obedient…Magnus was not.

Before he could get a word in, Magnus cut him off with, “You want to know why I went through all this trouble?”

Cosmos smirked bitterly and asked, “Because you’re trying to butter me up so you can take Anna to bed and rub it in my face?”

“No…because I love and respect Anna more than enough to try and be nice to you.”

Now Cosmos found himself at a loss for words. In truth, he believed Magnus only saw Anna as eye-candy…but he could sense in his words that he truly loved her and wanted to be with her. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of sitting down to dinner. And the green dragon admitted it was out of his adoration for Anna that he agreed as well. Alice would’ve never agreed to it; that was why she went to him.

“Look, we don’t have to like each other. Heck, we can hate each other the rest of our lives,” Magnus stated firmly. “But Anna loves me and I love her so much…knowing she’s happy should be enough for you, Cosmos.”

Cosmos’ mouth opened and closed a few times before he huffed. Getting lectured by a Peace Keeper…he’d rather be lectured by that layabout pacifist Nestor. Still, his words struck a chord. He by no means had to be best friends with Magnus, nor did he want to. But he did want his former student-surrogate daughter-happy.

“I have no intention of keeping myself placated if it means Anna is miserable,” Cosmos assured in his usual lecturing tone. “She may choose who she wants as long as she’s wise about it. And if the dragon she chooses is you…I can’t get in the way.”

Magnus crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, adding, “This doesn’t mean we’re best friends forever, old man. If anything, we can just tolerate each other from now on. At least we can agree that we care too much about Anna. And I think you know that we Peace Keepers are smarter and a lot more careful than you think.”

Cosmos gave a sniff of agreement, replying, “Yes…Anna has indeed wormed her way into our hearts. Tolerating each other is acceptable with me. And I do hope you understand that we Magic Crafters are more compassionate and less snobbish than you seem to believe.”

“So we’ve come to an agreement. I’m glad we made it that far,” Magnus concluded sternly. “Now be quiet and eat your dinner. I didn’t slave over that for nothing.”

“I’m not a child, you cretin,” Cosmos griped.

“You refuse to eat your food like a kid, I’ll treat you like a kid,” Magnus shot back smugly.

Well, fists weren’t flying and magic wasn’t blasting anything. That was a good start, they supposed.


	33. In the Dirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spyro has yet another lesson, though the dragoness giving the lesson wasn't born an Artisan. He has some questions for the Peace Keeper living in the Artisan realm, while getting a lesson on breaking boundaries and what the heart wants. He also witnesses the murder of a poor, unsuspecting watermelon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another one inspired by the one-on-one fics DecalinetheSpaceCat wrote in her story 'Blossoming Flame'. Just like with Cheyloe, Spyro's got another one-on-one lesson, only this time with Kaitlyn. Unlike his other teachers, Kaitlyn is a Peace Keeper married to none-other than Argus (shown in one of my previous drabbles). While Spyro doesn't get the battle lesson he hoped for, he learns that most Peace Keepers aren't all about battles.
> 
> This contains a vague, brief mention of alcoholism. I'm putting this in just in case. 
> 
> I'll have a few more up, including another Lindar and Yukari drabble and a Sharese-centered drabble, before we get into the dragons getting crystallized. Then during/after the Avalar saga, we'll get introduced to a dragoness waited for by many. Until then, stay tuned!

Drabble: In the Dirt

“Bzz!” (That’s nasty!)

“Man, this stuff stinks!”

There was a pause, then a gruff, scratchy, feminine voice deadpanning, “It’s made ‘a sheep crap, whaddya expect?”

Argus would scold the dragoness for using such a crude word in front of Spyro and Sparx. ‘Unbecoming vocabulary for a young dragon’, he would say. But Argus wasn’t there at the moment, and that was cleaner compared to what she _could’ve_ said. Nonetheless, they should’ve known that manure-and its contents-naturally stank.

Spyro figured he would have another session with Argus today. Instead, he was stuck with a one-on-one session with, as Lindar jokingly called her, Argus’ ‘right-hand dragoness’. Kneeling next to him was a muscular dragoness donning scarred, steel-blue scales, black wings, and messy dark-blue hair under a red bandanna. Her amber eyes didn’t send chills down his spine, or her very-sharp talons. No…it was her tail resembling that of a scorpion. All the traits were unusual for an Artisan. That was when Spyro reminded himself she wasn’t an Artisan.

Kaitlyn was a Peace Keeper living in the Artisan realm.

Spyro knew it was similar situation like Magnus and Anna, which conjured up unpleasant memories of being strangled in measuring tape. He often heard a small number of Artisans complaining about dragons going ‘outside the guild’. He didn’t feel like hearing another ‘when we first met’ story, so he didn’t ask so many questions. He just knew, to his disappointment, that he wasn’t getting a lesson in beating up bad guys. He was stuck learning how to grow watermelons with stinky manure.

“Are any of these ready to eat? They look really good,” Spyro observed.

Kaitlyn swore she saw a thin line of drool coming out of the fledgling’s mouth. A grin spread across her face as she pointed to a set of large, deep-green melons to the side. “Those are, but these need another month. They gotta be at th’ right sweetness an’ texture before ya dig in.”

Spyro watched the steel-blue dragoness lean over and pluck one of the largest watermelons out of the patch. It snapped right off the vine and presented a yellow underside, prompting a nod of approval from her. “Perfect! Now we’re gonna use this baby t’ make some watermelonade!”

“Watermelonade?”

“It’s just ground up watermelon wit’ some lemon juice an’ sugar. A little bit ‘a mint, too.”

Another thing Spyro observed with the Peace Keeper was her tendency to fight with Alvar of the kitchen; territorial, as Nestor called it. Just her personality alone…it didn’t seem like something he saw clicking with a cool-headed dragon like Argus. Was it that whole ‘opposites attract’ thing? He asked himself the same question so many of the other Artisans asked themselves.

What in the world did Argus see in this dragoness?

Spyro was distracted from his thoughts when Kaitlyn called out, “Spyro!”

“Huh?”

“C’mon, stop stayin’ in la-la land an’ help me!”

Well, it got him away from the manure. His excitement to watch something related to food and drink be made wavered when Kaitlyn added, “We aren’t goin’ into th’ kitchen wit’ manure hands. Let’s wash off.”

That said, most of the soap was used on Spyro. There would be no dirty paws laying a hand on anything in Kaitlyn’s kitchen. She was much nicer about it compared to being in Alvar’s kitchen; dirty hands meant a wooden spoon to his backside, and he did NOT want to relive that. He came away from the sink smelling like vanilla right on time to see the dragoness brandishing a very large chef’s knife. A large knife in the hand of a battle-happy Peace Keeper made the fledgling gulp. 

He squeezed his eyes shut when he heard her grunt. One of his eyes parted open to see the poor watermelon swiftly cut in half. Melon juice oozed over the countertop, leaving Spyro with a disturbed sense of awe. The grin on Kaitlyn’s face unnerved him a bit, and he could feel Sparx hide behind his wing.

“B-Bzz, bzz…” (She murdered it…)

Spyro spoke at the same time, “You murdered it…”

Kaitlyn ignored the looks on their faces, instead declaring, “Nah, I hit th’ jackpot!” She showcased one half of the melon, and Spyro and Sparx’s horror was replaced with a growing appetite. “Lookit all that redness, all those seeds…we gotta sweet one, baby!”

Spyro and Sparx forgot that they witnessed the bisection of a watermelon and jumped in to help make watermelonade. There was a lot of seed-plucking on their part and watching the dragoness cut and grind the melon’s contents into liquid. Spyro didn’t appreciate Kaitlyn tricking him into sucking on a spare wedge of lemon, nor did Sparx appreciate a drop of lemon juice in his eye. Still, they were ready for the finished product, watching the muscular dragoness add lemon juice, a restrained amount of sugar, and freshly-picked mint leaves.

“All right, see what ya think.”

Kaitlyn shoved a glass of the drink in Spyro’s direction (and a bottle-capful for Sparx). The duo wasted no time in guzzling down the contents before the dragoness stopped them. “Whoa, ‘ey, slow down an’ savor it!”

Well, they savored what little was left. Spyro put down his glass with a smile on his face, exclaiming, “Whoa, it’s really good! Can I have some more!?”

“Ah, ah! Th’ rest is for me an’ Argie. You’re my taste-testers, an’ I’m not letting ya get hyped up,” Kaitlyn huffed. “Remember th’ time ya snuck some ‘a Gavin’s espresso?”

How could he forget? Nestor and Lindar wouldn’t stop reminding him for a month or so. “What’re you gonna do with the other half?”

“I’m gonna make watermelon sorbet. It’s one ‘a Argie’s favorites.”

Spyro cringed slightly at Kaitlyn’s pet nickname for Argus…but it was better than all the pet nicknames Nils and Fontavia gave each-other. Kaitlyn seemed too tough to give pet nicknames to another dragon, yet the frequent visits from Todor to buy deer-themed stuff told him the Peace Keepers weren’t all about battles. Argus frequently reminded him to never go on first impressions…maybe that and that ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ stuff was why he married Kaitlyn.

“I know this is kinda off-subject…but do you miss your old realm and battles and stuff?”

Kaitlyn paused in drinking her own glass of watermelonade and sighed. The little punk knew how get to a dragon’s soft spot, didn’t he? Why was it kids had to ask those kinds of questions; she got enough hard questions from Ember. Still, it brought back nice memories of Cliff Town. Cooking up hot pepper stew, drinking cactus water, wrestling with Halvor and Enzo, getting into arguments with Marco, having Boris constantly check on her. Good time, yes…and yet…

The steel-blue dragoness began cleaning her knife, explaining, “Yeah…I do kinda miss th’ deserts and hangin’ with th’ guys…but I wouldn’t trade where I’m at now for th’ world.” Her eyes darted to a painted portrait of herself and Argus as a warm smile spread on her muzzle. “I actually get t’ have a peaceful life ‘ere, an’…an’ Argie’s th’ guy I never knew I needed.”

“What do you mean?” Spyro asked curiously.

She could get into how she and Argus met, but it would touch upon matters Spyro wasn’t ready for yet. He was too young to learn what the old her was like; the nasty, foul-mouthed, violent drunk she was. To this day, she didn’t know how or why Argus put up with her at that time or found any good in her. But he did, and she thanked him from the bottom of her heart for it. Some of her fellow Peace Keepers complained he tried to ‘fix’ her, but she would argue on her husband’s behalf until she lost her voice.

It wasn’t ‘fixing’…it was helping her find the good she had buried underneath the trash.

“Spyro, I know ya hear certain dragons talkin’ about this guild stuff, but don’t pay ‘em mind,” Kaitlyn stated, changing the subject for his sake. “Guilds can’t get in th’ way ‘a lovin’ someone. It’s just based on skills an’ jobs. Behind it all, we’re all just a bunch ‘a dragons. Am I makin’ sense?”

Spyro tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “I guess, but I’m seriously not into this love stuff. You grown-ups can have fun with it all you want.”

_‘Typical.’_ Kaitlyn shrugged, nonchalantly concluding, “Suit yourself.”

* * *

Argus got a good whiff of sheep manure the moment he stepped foot in the garden. After a long day of sampling some of Devlin’s crème brûlée and Alvar’s jerk pork, he was ready for whatever surprise his wife had in store for him. However, the first thing he found was Spyro spreading manure around the freshly-planted fig tree. His first suspicion was that Kaitlyn forced Spyro to do all the work, but he corrected himself; she wouldn’t let someone as inexperienced as Spyro handle the garden alone.

“Babe, you’re home!”

The heavyset purple dragon saw the steel-blue dragoness appearing with a watering can. She, too, stank of sheep manure and fresh soil. Argus offered her a smirk, stating, “I’m not kissing you until you wash off.”

“Aw, you’re not gonna get down an’ dirty wit’ me an’ Spyro?” Kaitlyn asked, a low purr in her voice. “Ya didn’t say that when we planted th’ fig tree.”

Oh, Argus remembered that well. “You threw dirt at me, then you complained when I returned the favor. What happened next is not good to discuss in front of Spyro, love.”

Kaitlyn seemed to suggestively waggle her brows at that. “It was just a little wrestlin’ in th’ dirt followed by-“

Spyro had a feeling he knew where this was going. Forgetting that his paws were still covered in sheep manure, the purple fledgling clasped them over his head and loudly chanted, “La, la, la, I’m not hearing that! I’m not hearing that!”

Seeing what Spyro just did snapped the dragoness out of her conversation with her husband. As soon as she saw where his paws were, she dropped her watering can and shouted, “’Ey, don’t touch your face wit’ that! Argie, get me some soap an’ water!”

This was supposed to be a gardening lesson followed by a few treat-making observations. It wasn’t supposed to devolve into giving Spyro a full scrub-down. Both of them would have fun telling Nestor that Spyro ended smearing sheep manure on his head and into his earholes. Argus would’ve scolded his wife for getting them distracted…but a watermelon slush and watermelonade buttered him up quick.

Another great dragon infected by the plagues of love and marriage, Spyro supposed.


	34. Troubling Teenager (Beast Makers)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An attempt at learning beast-making goes wrong, leaving Bruno and Cleotilde to deal with an angry teen holding their room hostage. Bruno concludes that all teenagers are demons, while the youngest of the Beast Makers deals with the possibility that she may not make the cut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another old one of mine, and it takes place shortly before the first game. Now it's been a while since we've seen the Beast Makers, and besides Cleotilde, Sharese is another of my OCs. As the youngest of the Beast Makers, she still has a lot to learn concerning her home realm's craft, but she's not exactly the best at it. And let's just say her frustration has boiled over and she ends up doing something very stupid. She doesn't realize that lacking in the beast-making department doesn't make her any less loved by her fellow Beast Makers.
> 
> Now Sharese has a habit of calling the other Beast Makers her uncles and Cleotilde her 'auntie'. It's a little thing she developed to feel more of a familial bond with them.
> 
> Next up will be another Lindar and Yukari drabble, and I'm hoping to get into the start of the first game soon!
> 
> Contains just a smidge of language.

Drabble: Troubling Teenager (Beast Makers)

A small group of Beast Makers were huddled around a single hut in the Beast Makers home. A few were there out of concern, the rest to be entertained. They strained their ears to hear the drama unfolding inside Bruno and Cleotilde’s house. This time, it wasn’t the leader and his wife bickering again. It was something far worse for their age.

The other Beast Makers didn’t know all that transpired. All they knew was that there was a spilled and cracked cauldron, a trashed beast-making room, and a certain teenager locking herself in Bruno and Cleotilde’s room.

Sadiki and Rashawn stood in the background. They never expected Sharese to make such a mess, but the argument that ensued between her and Bruno was worse. Sadiki tried first in talking her out; it didn’t work. Rashawn tried coaxing his baby sister with a trip to the Artisan realm. It didn’t work. Cleotilde decided to leave her be. Bruno, however, pounded on the door and demanded she get over herself.

“Sharese, ya better be gettin’ out here an’ cleanin’ up your mess,” Bruno roared.

“No! Ya can’t make me!”

Bruno risked putting his blood pressure through the roof and pounded on the door once again. In a snarl, he commanded, “You’ll come out, or I’ll-I’ll-I’ll break down th’ door!”

He could literally hear Sharese roll her eyes as she replied, “Yeah, like I never heard that one before!”

The Beast Maker leader turned away from the shut door and shouted to the heavens. He had to pull his bearskin hat off and massage the bare spot on his head, rumbling, “Why do teenagers have t’ be demons? Sharese would look great wit’ a forked tail an’ a pitchfork right now!”

Cleotilde decided to break her silence before her husband had a stroke. She approached Bruno with arms crossed over her chest, locking eyes with him, and whispered, “Quit your gripin’ an’ grousin’, old man. Don’t be stoopin’ t’ her level. She wants t’ get under your skin. Try bein’ gentle…”

She suddenly produced something resembling a skeleton key, adding, “…an’ lettin’ ‘er know this is _our _house.”

After staring at the key, Bruno swiped it and pushed it into the lock. But as he went to fully turn the key and unlock the door, a voice called, “Don’t.”

There was a pause, followed by, “…I’ll open it.”

Bruno pulled the key out and patiently waited. The knob finally turned and the door opened enough for Sharese’s face to be shown. Her brown eyes were reddened and bleary; it didn’t take a genius to know she was on the verge of crying. However, Bruno wouldn’t be totally soft. She wrecked the beast-making room and locked herself in his and his wife’s bedroom. This was their house, not hers.

“I don’t appreciate you lockin’ yourself up in our bedroom. When your in another dragon’s home, respect their home an’ their rules,” Bruno scolded, his tone unusually-calm. “Now…go clean up th’ mess you made…please.”

The ‘gentle’ approach he used surprised the wily teenager. What kind of game was he playing? She was sure Cleotilde put him up to it, or he didn’t lose his slyness to old age after all. She averted her eyes and frowned deeply, her lips almost quivering.

“Cleanin’ up th’ mess won’t help me make a beast,” Sharese croaked. “Nothin’ will ever help me make a damn beast! What good a Beast Maker am I!?”

“Don’t use that language, Sharese,” Rashawn lectured.

Bruno held his hand up between the two siblings. He knelt over to look the teenager in the eye, ignoring the soreness in his back from old age. He decided to get down to her level in a different way. 

He knew she had trouble living up to her namesake. He lost count of all the nights she went without sleep trying to conjure her first beast with no results. Most dragons made their first chicken or toad before they were twelve years old. Sharese was already fifteen and without a trophy. Perhaps her frustration with the fruitless results explained her recent brushing-off of her studies.

“No…cleanin’ up th’ mess won’t help you make a beast,” Bruno agreed. “But it’ll teach you this thing called respectin’ other dragons’ homes. We let you use our beast-making room t’ help you. Trashin’ it tells us you don’t appreciate that help.”

Sharese’s eyes widened and she denied, “T-That’s not true. I appreciate it, really! I-I’m just so frustrated ‘bout not makin’ a beast, I-”

“And you think bein’ behind makes you less than th’ rest of us? Have any of us loved you any less for not makin’ a beast?”

The dark-grey dragoness fell silent at Bruno’s honest words. To her, a Beast Maker that couldn’t make a beast was useless. They never told her outright, but she still felt their disappointment when all she could conjure up was sludge. Bruno ragged on her a lot and it often made her want to quit. That was why she ended up trashing the beast-making room…and putting a crack in their prized cauldron.

Wiping her eyes, Sharese mumbled, “…’m sorry, Uncle Bruno.”

Bruno gently took the teen by her chin and made her look as he stood tall. His rough voice became gentle when he stated, “Sharese, even if you don’t make your first beast ‘til your grown, it ain’t gonna make us care ‘bout you any less. Th’ important thing is you don’t give up. Understand?”

Sharese nodded, prompting Bruno to smile and gruffly confirm, “Good…’cause you got a lot ‘a cleanin’ up t’ do.”

Cleotilde smirked and produced a broom and dustpan just the right size for the teen-aged dragon. Sharese begrudgingly took them and sighed deeply. Rashawn let her face her punishment and even the easy-going Sadiki sided with his father on this. She looked up at Bruno one last time, hoping for a bit of leniency. Nope.

“An’ your grounded for three months. That’ll give you plenty ‘a time t’ study up on beast-makin’ techniques. Do you agree to th’ terms, young lady?”

“…Yes, sir.”

With calm back in the household, Bruno and Cleotilde sat back and enjoyed their record player while the teen-aged dragoness restored the beast-making room. She was to be on garden duty and chicken-wrangling duty, too. 

Bruno concluded that teenagers were still demons, but he knew how to show them up every time. 


End file.
